Flight Path
by sketchessie
Summary: Samantha is in unfamilair and dangerous waters, and thanks to one of Batman’s worst enemies, she’s about to learn new information about herself and her past that threatens to shake the foundations of her whole world. (Sequel to Bird in the Nest.)
1. Chapter 1: Brother

_Hello! I'm back. I know it's been a while, but I've been very busy, so I hope you'll forgive me. I do hope you liked Bird in the Nest. If you didn't, well, then, why are you reading this? If you don't know what that is, go back and read it. This is part two. And if you did like it, you have my deepest thanks. As always, I hope you review, as any comments I receive will be taken into consideration for future editing. Now, read, and enjoy! - Essie_

 **Chapter 1 - Brother**

Tears streamed from my eyes and soaked into the pillow under my head. Yes, once again, I was crying. It seemed every chapter of my life began with some form of crying, weeping, tearing up, or just silently misting in despair. But that's what happens when things go wrong so often in your life.

How did things go wrong this time? Well, first, I was kidnapped by Ra's al Ghul and his daughter, Talia, and forcibly revived from a comatose state by the waters of the Lazarus Pit. Then Ra's rewrote the story I had thought was my life, dropping a nuclear bomb called "Test Subject." It's not every day you learn your family was torn apart because some crackpot genius wanted to see if technology can synthesize super powers. As far as I know, it can't. It just kills people.

And then, my brother turned out not to be dead.

That would have been wonderful, especially after Ra's the Bad News Train's cold-hearted run. But that's what went wrong.

When Jeremiah walked into the dining room, I felt the most incredible and complex feeling. I felt stunned, elated, confused, doubtful, and absolutely certain all at once. It all boiled down to cold, hard shock that the man standing in front of me was my twin brother, whom I had known to be dead for years. The moment of stunned silence passed, and I threw myself across the room at my brother. We hugged for minutes and minutes. We hadn't seen each other in twelve years, and to be back together again, to know that we were both alive and finally in the same room, in each other's arms, was enough for both of us.

My brain, of course, did its best to ruin the moment, asking questions like, "Why is he still alive and Mom and Dad aren't? If he's been living with the bad guys, is he a bad guy, too? What if, after all that, he doesn't like you, or you don't like him?" But I didn't need that kind of negativity in my moment. I shoved all questions to the back of my mind and squeezed my brother tighter.

Jem. That's what I had called him, as a nickname. I picked it up from Dad. If I called him Jem, would he know what I meant? I whispered it in his ear, just to make sure. He responded by laughing a little, and whispering back, "Sam."

He knew! He understood!

Somebody cleared their throat, and Jem suddenly stiffened and let go of me. I looked up to see that his face had gone coldly formal.

"Yes, sir."

Ra's had stood from his chair and was watching us with an amused smile. "I think Miss Meyers' desire is no longer for food. Jeremiah, you may return with her to her quarters, if you wish. Take some time to reacquaint yourselves."

Jem smiled shyly. "Thank you, sir!" He gave Ra's a small bow and took my hand, pulling me to the door. I shot a final glance in Ra's' direction, then was swept out into the hall.

As my twin - my twin! - dragged me down corridor after corridor, all my questions came flooding back. I realized that I had no idea what Jeremiah was going to be like. Would he be funny? Kind? Would he smile and laugh? Was he anything like the visions I had satisfied my longing with all these years?

Deep in my heart, though, I felt like I knew him. I felt as if no time had passed, and we were as close as ever. Maybe it was the instinct of a twin, but I knew that, no matter what, I would love him now as much as I had loved him all those years ago.

Another door opened, and I realized we were back at my room. I was actually happy to see it; it was a piece of familiar space after so many unremembered twists and turns. I flopped down on the bed, and Jem sat beside me, both of us laughing and a little out of breath from our hasty trip.

"I can't believe you're alive!" I said, rolling onto my back. "All these years, I thought you were gone for good! I never, ever thought… anything like this…!"

Jem bounced to his feet, clearly too excited to sit. "Oh, I've been wishing for a day like this for you don't know how long! I tried so hard to contact you, but I was so limited… did you notice?"

I smiled. He sounded like Dad. He spoke with a bit of an accent, and I could tell he had learned his vocabulary from the al Ghuls, but I could hear it in his voice - he was funny, he was kind, just like I had always imagined.

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah," I said, shaking myself. "I'm just… I'm so happy to have you. Here. Just inches away, real, alive… I've missed you."

"You, too." He leaned on the bed. "You didn't answer my question."

"What?"

"Did you notice? I tried to contact you."

"Oh, yeah. You were at the party. Right?" My eyes widened. "Wait, were you the one who tried to kidnap me in the middle of the dance floor?"

Jem winced. "Perhaps. I didn't mean to frighten you that badly. Will you forgive me for that?"

I rolled my eyes. "Alright, I guess."

He smiled. "Good. But that wasn't what I was referring to."

"Meaning what?"

Jem reached for his sash and removed what I had thought was a decoration of some sort. But then he held it up to his face, and I was met with a familiar sight.

A blurry image in a file, next to a name. _Oddjob_.

"No way." I gaped. "You were…"

"Yes. It took me a long time to come up with a way to contact you without alerting anyone to my real identity or getting caught by the Detective."

"Who?"

"Batman."

"Oh, right. So… you really set up an elaborate code made of objects, all on some whim that I might find out about it?"

"I knew you would."

"How?"

Jem tied the mask back onto his sash. "It's a long story. But I hoped you would get a hint from the types of things I stole."

I cocked my head. "What did you steal again?"

He took a longsuffering breath. "Emerald rings, Batman pins, and black pearls."

"Okay, so… why those?"

"Emeralds?"

I blinked at him for a second. Then, it clicked. "Oh! Our birthstone! Emerald for May."

"Yes! And the pins…"

"Well, Batman was always my favorite."

He made a face. "Bit of a poor choice, but it did the trick. And the pearls?"

"I… don't think I know that one."

"Mother's earrings?"

"Right! The ones she wore for all her concerts." I grinned. "She lost them so many times."

"And we'd go digging through couch cushions with our tiny fingers…"

"But Dad had them the whole time. And he held them ransom until…"

"Until she gave him a kiss."

I laughed. "We always thought that was so mushy."

Jem lay back, beaming. "You get it. It wasn't pointless, after all."

"It was brilliant. I'm sorry I didn't notice sooner."

He turned his head so he could look at me. "Have I mentioned I missed you?"

My lips twitched up at the corners. But then, one awful thought, one question, tugged them back down.

"Jem. Do you know that… about our parents?"

"Yes, I know." His grin faded. "I'm so sorry."

He sounded genuine. But the topic sparked a million questions, ones I was nervous to ask. I didn't want to start a conflict… but I had to know.

"You know why they died, right?"

Jem hesitated. "I know it was because of Li's biochip."

"Li?"

"Julian Li. The man who invented the chip. He visits on occasion, to check up on me."

I looked over at my brother. "So, you knew you had it?"

"Ever since I got it. I'm sorry you had to find out this way. I wanted to come and find you right away, I really did, but… I wasn't allowed to leave for a long time."

"Were you a prisoner?"

"Oh, no. But I had to stay in the palace so Ra's and Li could keep an eye on me. And I wasn't allowed to show myself to you or our parents, in case someone called the police."

I shook my head. "Why did you stay? I mean, they kidnapped you! Why didn't you try to get help or something?"

"I… was frightened at first," Jem said. "But Talia was so kind to me, and she and Ra's gave me a good life. They taught me everything you'd learn at school and more. I was always fed; I had access to so much that I would never have known if I had stayed with you. Now I understand that what happened to me wasn't a bad thing - it was a way forward, to new heights I would never have achieved without Ra's al Ghul."

I sat up, my stomach twisting inside me. "How can you thank them? Jem, you were taken from your family - from us! They stole your life from you!"

"Wrong!" Jem launched himself off the bed and stood in front of me, waving his hands for emphasis. "I've been given a better life! I've seen how you live back in America. Everything is designed to keep you quiet, keep you happy. But the world is built on change. And sometimes, it's our job to change it. Ra's showed me how we can do that, how we can make the world a better place! I can show you, too."

He held out his hand to me, and suddenly, I was stuck in a Saturday morning cartoon, the heroine faced with a choice between two terrible options: to join her loved one on the dark side, or to stay in the light and lose him forever.

I went with the middle ground. "So… are you a ninja now?"

Jem lowered his hand, looking slightly disappointed, but still happy. "It's better than that. Ra's and Talia have given me extensive training, and with the added benefit of the biochip, I've become one of the most adept out of Ra's' forces."

" _Forces_?"

"I started out being only an apprentice. He has a couple every few years; I was lucky enough to train with him alone. He let me be a guard in this palace once I was trained enough. He even recommended me to Talia as a sparring partner for Damian, when he was still living here."

"You've… met Damian?!"

"I knew him, briefly. He surpassed my level after only a week of sparring - and he was only eight! Quite a remarkable boy… anyway, Ra's replaced me so I wouldn't be killed. But apparently, I was still one of his strongest assets, because about a year ago, Ra's asked me if I would join the League of Assassins."

My heart plummeted into my shoes.

The reunion was ruined. My brother was part of an evil cult. He had been brainwashed by Ra's al Ghul and now he was an assassin… oh, no.

"Have you… killed anyone?"

Jem nodded. "A few. It's a rite of passage. It's not really my style, though."

My hand flew to my mouth. Okay… okay, Jem's killed people. He doesn't like it, though; that's good, right? Oh, this was so bad, so _bad_ …

"Sam?" Jem bent down in front of me. "You look upset."

I had to laugh. " _Upset?_ That's an understatement."

"Why?"

"Because you… you've - you're… you! You're alive, and that makes me happy, so happy, you have no idea, but… now you've killed people?! And you're an assassin, who works for Ra's al Ghul, I mean… what would Mom and Dad think?"

"Oh." Jem sat down. "I guess… I should've expected."

"That this is wrong?!"

"That you'd get taken in." He looked at me sadly. "Do you think Ra's al Ghul is the bad guy? That he would try to harm the world?"

"Jem, they call him the Demon's Head. That alone should tip you off that something's not right."

"No, but that's what you've been told, see? By people like Batman, people like Alfred."

"Yes, good people."

"No, Sam. They're not the good guys."

"Batman's helping the world."

"Maybe he's trying. But just look around you; look at Gotham. It's the heart of all crime and villainy on this planet. And is Batman helping? No, he's making it worse! It was only after the masks, the gods and monsters, started trying to save the world that all the supervillains, like the Joker, came along. The Joker, the one who separated us in the first place!"

"He didn't separate us, Jem," I snapped. "Ra's did."

Jem scowled. But he didn't seem to have a comeback.

"Jem, Ra's separated our family, then used us as lab rats. He _killed_ our parents. They're _dead_ because of what he did! They'll never get to see you again, never, ever know that you're alive! And you'll never get to see them, either! Doesn't that matter to you?"

Jem kept his head bowed. "I have you back. That's something. Even if I never see my parents again, I get to see you. Besides, what did they ever do for me?"

"Uh, I don't know, give you _life_ , maybe?!"

"And? Is that all? Because Ra's gave me _purpose_. He gave me something to fight for."

"And what is that?"

"Balance." Jem looked up. "Order. Righting the wrongs that have been done to this world."

"Yeah, you're part of those wrongs, Jem."

"I'm fighting to keep this world from destroying itself! I'm fighting against tyranny - the tyranny of the few over the many, the rich over the poor, the liars over the honest!"

I stared at him. "And yet you worship a power-hungry stalker who hoards eternal life for himself."

In an instant, Jem got to his feet. His hand shot out, and before I knew what had happened, he had slapped me across the face.

He glared at me with a cold and forbidding face. "Never insult Ra's al Ghul in front of me."

I could feel hot tears sliding down my face, but I didn't care. I was mad. "If you're so keen on defending him, then why don't you go stand guard over his precious hide and leave me alone?"

"Sam…"

"Get _out_ of my _room!_ "

I grabbed a pillow and threw it at him. He dodged it easily, and it crashed into the table, sending a decorative vase to the floor in pieces.

Jem stared at me for a moment more, then turned and walked to the door. He paused, about to open it.

"I'm glad you're here, Sam."

"Get. Out."

Jem wrenched the door open, and slammed it shut behind him. As soon as he was gone, I flung myself onto my remaining pillows and wept.

/

So that's where I was now. It felt like I'd been through Hell, Heaven, and then Hell all over again in the span of an hour. I was out of tears, and I was too tired to throw any more pillows. My anger was spent, and so was I.

I fell into a restless sleep, full of terrible dreams. In one, I was standing facing both of my parents; I knew I was in trouble for something, but I didn't know what. They were just angry. I woke for a couple minutes, still feeling guilty. Then I dove right into another dream, in which Jem was looming over me, holding hands with Ra's al Ghul and Talia, and all three of them were just staring down at me; I felt smaller and smaller, then actually started to shrink, until there was nothing left of me.

There were others, but they were mere hazy night terrors, monsters and storms and other fearsome things. I awoke in a cold sweat, nearly paralyzed as I lay there under the thin sheets, terrified to move for fear something from my dreams would manifest and come after me.

After a little while, I managed to pry myself up from the mattress and rolled over to look around. There was no one in the room, but there was a tray of food on the table, and a new outfit laid over a chair. Thank heavens - it was normal jeans and a t-shirt. None of this silly silk business.

I got up and poked at the food. I decided I was hungry and bit into some sort of exotic fruit I found. It was pretty good. I walked around my room, looking into all the nooks and crannies. One of the windows opened onto a balcony, so I went out and stared at the horizon, where the colors of the sunrise were just beginning to fade to blue. It was hot out, but there was a nice breeze blowing.

I sighed. Why couldn't everything be this nice?

"Good morning."

I jumped at the sound of Jem's voice. Where even was he? I looked… up.

He was hanging over the edge of a balcony above me.

With incredible ease and skill, Jem flipped over the rail of his balcony and jumped to mine. He rolled to a perfect stop, poised holding his arm out to me. Sitting in his hand was the most beautiful flower I had ever seen.

"What's this?" I asked, folding my arms. "A proposal?"

Jem chuckled and stood. "No. It's an apology. I was out of line last night. I shouldn't have hit you."

"Hm." I turned back to the horizon. "It's not good, but it's a start."

"Do you want the flower?"

"No."

He hesitated only a moment before getting up and leaning on the railing next to me. He held the delicate flora out and twirled it between his fingers.

"You know, these flowers are incredible exfoliating agents. Put them together with some honey and soap…"

"Jem." I whirled on him. "You hit me _in the face_ because I didn't agree with you about whether Ra's al Ghul is the good guy or not. I don't see how you expect a face wash flower to help."

Jem stared down at his gift. "I… have a bit of a temper. I guess… you wouldn't know. About it. Because… we've been apart."

That hit me like a ton of bricks. He almost sounded… _scared._ Like he thought I might not want to know him.

I took a deep breath and stared at the spinning flower as it jumped around, twirled and danced. It had been a thoughtful gesture. It was almost old-fashioned gallant.

He almost reminded me of Damian.

I couldn't help a smile. The untamed temper, the messy apology, even sometimes how he spoke - did Ra's al Ghul teach all his ninjas to be like that? It was almost… _cute_.

Hm. My brother was cute. Don't let the girls in my class know that.

"Look," I said. "We're clearly not going to get anywhere with the 'who's right, who's wrong' debate. So, let's just let it go, and maybe… we can try starting over."

"You'd… do that?"

"It's better than arguing."

Jem blew out his breath. "That's a relief. I thought you'd be mad a lot longer."

"I didn't say I wasn't mad."

"Of course. You… you can hit me back, if you'd like…"

"That's probably not a good idea." I looked down at my fist, resting on the balcony rail. "For you, or for me. I'm more likely to hurt myself."

Jem snorted. "That's the truth."

"Hey. Are you calling me weak?"

"In the hitting department, definitely. I bet you couldn't hurt a person if they held your hand and mashed their face into it."

"That's… fair."

We laughed a little, glanced at each other, and smiled. I felt like a different person, standing next to him. Like something I'd been missing for years was now… found.

Suddenly, Jem whirled around. "Miss Talia…"

I turned to see Talia standing in the doorway to the balcony, watching us with a twinkle in her eye. "Good to see you two are having such a good time. Jeremiah, you're expected in training."

"Yes, ma'am." Jem winked at me and ran past Talia. "I'll see you later!"

"Yeah, you, too, bonehead!"

Talia lifted one graceful eyebrow. "You seem to have gotten close rather fast. I'm surprised you even remember each other."

"We're twins," I said. "We never forget."

/

I followed Talia down the endless maze of corridors, to a study that reminded me a little of Bruce's. More big windows and bookshelves. This one didn't have a grandfather clock, or any family portraits. Actually, it was mostly just windows and books. And a desk, behind which sat Ra's al Ghul. He was staring at some kind of holographic screen. He looked up when Talia and I walked in.

"Samantha," he said, shutting the holoscreen down. "Thank you, Talia, dear. You may go."

Talia nodded and left. Ra's stood from his chair and examined me.

"You seem to be doing much better this morning."

"Well, a good night's sleep and a little forgiveness do tend to settle the soul. Maybe you should try it."

"Already evangelizing, and you've hardly met me." Ra's smiled patronizingly. "I see the Detective has wasted no time filling you with his opinions."

"I can see some things for myself."

"Illuminate me."

I scowled. "For one thing, you kidnapped my brother and made me think he was dead. Then you killed my parents. And to top it off, you turned Jeremiah into an assassin. Made him kill people. I think that's all I need to know you're a villain."

Ra's simply chuckled and folded his hands behind his back. "A villain, you say? I think not. A villain, dear Samantha, is someone who oppresses, someone who destroys for the sake of destroying - a man without vision. I am a force of nature. I bring balance to this chaotic earth. My vision is of a world made perfect through constant honing, whittling, and smoothing, like a stone eroded to a flawless round by the river."

"Do you think using big words makes you right?"

"I can see that you and I will never see eye to eye, so let's table the debate for now and move on to more important matters. Namely, that chip in your head."

My hand involuntarily clenched. "What about it?"

"I need it."

I looked up. "You're… going to remove it?"

"Of course not. It can't be removed. I mean I need its results. I need to know if it works."

I frowned. "Which means what?"

"I've planned a rigorous program to test your abilities, which you will begin as soon as possible. Talia will be your mentor."

"What abilities?"

"The abilities granted to you by the chip. Don't look at me like that – it works perfectly fine. You just haven't learned how to use it."

"And why would I ever do anything for you?"

Ra's smirked. "Because, Samantha, I'm afraid you are just as curious to see the results as I am. Besides, if you weren't to cooperate…"

"Yeah, you'd kill everyone I hold dear, and so on. I get it. But what good would testing it do, anyway? It's literally killing me. I'd think you'd do better by finding some way to turn it off."

"My dear Samantha, we've been through this. It was never even on."

"If it's not _on_ , then why is it… sending enhanced neuro-signals, or whatever? Why is it still killing me?"

"The chip remains in a neutral mode unless activated by some kind of stimulant which will trigger a mental response - a widening of the mental flow, if that makes sense. Li made it that way as a sort of built-in secret identity, so that the chip bearers could pursue their lives normally when it was off and turn it on only when required."

I thought. "Jem. Has he… turned his on? I know Oddjob can do things normal people can't."

"Yes, the man who can open a door with little more than a piece of string," Ra's said, his pleasure apparent. "One of my finest and ablest men. You call him Oddjob? Interesting. I would've made it a little more artistic."

"How did he do it?"

Ra's smiled. "He didn't. Li did. Li discovered, while going through his notes, that he had programmed in a receiver for the stimulant but hadn't inputted what the stimulant would be. We hadn't thought that far at the time. Jeremiah was already showing signs of deterioration, so we decided to perform some tests to see what his chip might react to."

"And… what was it?"

"Nothing we thought of. We realized that the chip wouldn't react to any outside stimulus; it was linked to Jeremiah's mind, and his alone. So, we had him choose a stimulant."

"And that was?"

Ra's eyed me with a peculiar look. "Your name."

I blinked in surprise. "My name?"

"Yes."

"But… he must have said my name before. Why would the chip only react to it now?"

"The chip is programmed to work on command, not by association. He had to intentionally choose his stimulant. Once he had chosen it, then it would, by necessity, work."

"He basically decided my name would be his light switch, and it happened."

"To put it simply, yes. And once he had that switch, he could turn his enhanced abilities on and shut them off at will. As an added benefit, his body finally accepted the chip, and ceased to react to the brain's excited neural signals."

"So…" My breath caught. "So… all I have to do is pick a trigger of some kind, and my disease… this reaction my body is having to the effects… will go away?"

"Correct."

I didn't know what to do with this information. I could easily just pick something right now, and all my troubles would be over. But then, what if I picked something stupid? I couldn't do something silly like blinking, then I would never stop flipping the light switch. That could have really bad effects.

"You don't have to think of anything now," Ra's said. "I'd give it a little time. Take a few days; observe your brother. Perhaps he can counsel you on what to choose."

I nodded. "Yeah, I… need time."

"Wise choice." Ra's snapped his fingers, and the door opened to admit a man in a tunic – a servant. "Take her down to the training room. My daughter should be waiting. And Samantha?" He fixed me with a stern glare. "Let me know when you are ready to choose."

/

I followed the servant down several flights of stairs, until I was certain we were underground. We came out into a room that stretched at least two stories high and had to be the size of a football field across. There were mats laid out on the floor on one end of the room, and on the other were set up various poles on which young men and women in tunics were practicing with swords. There were a couple other ninjas sparring on the mats. My eye was instantly drawn to the one closest to the door.

That was my brother, fighting Talia al Ghul.

I was mesmerized. Jem could _fight_. He wasn't wild; he didn't flail or throw lazy punches. He and Talia could have been dancing, their motions were so fluid. Neither seemed to land a hit on the other, though there were several moments when I thought Jem could have and didn't. He must have been holding back. I bet nobody hits Ra's al Ghul's daughter without feeling it later.

Then, though I hardly registered it, I saw Jem tap Talia on the heel. That one tiny touch seemed to signal the end of the fight; Talia and Jem stepped back, and my brother bowed.

He glanced at the door and saw me. He didn't smile; he didn't react at all. It was unnerving, how steady he kept his face.

"Samantha."

It was the first time he had said my full name, and now, I understood why. Instantly, the emotion returned to his face; he gave me the biggest grin, and his whole body seemed to relax. I knew why.

He had turned off the chip.

Butterflies danced in my stomach. Was that how I would act, when my chip was on? Would I be stone-faced and lifeless? Nothing but a machine programmed to fight? Or was Jem's behavior all Ra's' doing?

"Hi, Sam," Jem said, walking up to me. He wasn't even panting. The fight didn't seem to have tired him at all. "Did you do it?"

"What?"

"Did you turn on your—"

"Oh. No, not yet. I want to think about it first."

He nodded. "Good choice. I didn't think long for mine, but… it was an obvious decision."

I smiled. "My name, huh?"

"I like to think it's you giving me power."

"How?"

"Seeing you always made me feel better. No matter what was wrong, I could look at you, see how you were doing, and I'd feel closer to you."

I wrinkled my brow. "See me how?"

Jem turned a little pale. "Um… I don't know if…"

"You can tell her," Talia said, appearing behind him. "There's not much reason to hide it now."

"Good," Jem said. "Ra's al Ghul has an enormous computer set up in a room all to itself. He can use it to get into any camera, any radio, anywhere. Every once in a while, when I needed motivation or encouragement, he would let me use the computer to look in on you."

"Sounds like spying to me."

"It might have been. But I had to see you."

I tapped my chin. "In that case… I'll let it slide."

"We were hoping you might be ready to turn on your chip today," Talia said, unwrapping the cloth that protected her fists. "But, seeing as you'd like some time, I think I'll let you and your brother take some time alone to figure it out. We shall continue training when she is ready, Jeremiah."

"Yes, ma'am." Jem bowed again as Talia left to check on another sparring pair.

"I have no idea what I'm going to choose, Jem," I sighed. "You chose a good one. It has meaning, it's short… I don't want to use your name, though."

"Why not?" Jem led me to a bench against the far wall. "Then we'd be the perfect pair."

"I know, but… no offense, but I think using someone else's name is a little demeaning. Like it means nothing except when you use it to turn on the chip."

"I didn't use it like that. But I see your reasoning. It's why I'm glad you call yourself Sam."

I leaned forward, wracking my brains. "I just wish I knew ahead of time what the chip will do to me. I saw you out there, and it was… so strange. It looked like you didn't feel anything. Like the chip just turned off your emotions."

Jem gazed at me. "Really?"

"Yeah. When you looked at me, it was like staring into the perfect poker face."

He lowered his head. "I didn't realize. But that's what it's like with Ra's al Ghul. Emotions can cloud your vision when you fight. You need to keep yourself distant, or you could make some vital mistakes."

"I don't know if I can do _distant_."

"To be honest, I'd be surprised if you managed it. You're terrible at hiding things."

"Gee, thanks." I rubbed my eyes. "Ugh, this is going to take _forever_. Unless…"

"Unless what?"

I glanced at my brother. "Unless I knew what it was like to have it on."

Jem got to his feet. "Would you like a demonstration?"

"Yes, please."

He called to Talia and waved her across the room. She arrived with a frown and a wrinkled brow.

"What is this?"

"A demonstration," Jem said. "My sister would like to see the chip in action."

"Very well." Talia fell into a crouch, instantly ready. "The usual, or something more?"

"More."

Jem glanced back at me and winked. " _Samantha_."

This time, I saw it. His pupils contracted violently, until they were almost nothing. I caught my breath. He looked… inhuman.

His face snapped back to Talia, alert and vacant. They began to move immediately. This time, though, they were constantly touching each other. I saw Talia chop the back of his head, Jem twist her arm, flip her over his back. They came apart for a second, eyed each other, then flew back in, like wolves at each other's necks. I tried to follow, but they moved far too fast.

And then, Jem won.

I didn't see it happen. I just knew that one second, they were fighting, and the next, Jem had pinned her to the floor, one arm raised to strike.

" _Samantha_."

Jem's eyes blinked once, and his pupils dilated back to normal. He got up, and helped Talia to her feet.

"There. What do you think now?"

I just stared at him. He was my brother… but when the chip was on, he was unfamiliar. Sort of like Bruce was when he put on the cowl…

"Sam?"

I shook myself out of a daze. "Sorry, yes. I… thought it was really good."

Jem cocked his head. "That's all?"

"I mean, it was incredible. I didn't know people could move like that. But… I don't think I could do it."

"Don't worry," Jem said, with a smile I'm sure was meant to cheer me up. "You will soon enough."

That only made me shudder. I didn't like who Jem was when the chip was on. I didn't think I would like myself. This whole business was terrifying.

What would I become when the thing was on?


	2. Chapter 2: The Drums and the Duel

_Sorry for the long wait! School started again a couple weeks ago, and I'm very busy. Updates will probably be pretty sparse until the next break. But I'm still working! I'll finish this story no matter what. - Essie_

 **Chapter 2 - The Drums and the Duel**

All the rest of that day, the question dogged at me: what should I choose as my stimulant – my trigger? I had to pick something; it was the only way to get rid of the attacks. I did wonder a couple times whether I should defy Ra's, not turn the chip on, be the hero. But I was scared – scared of him, scared of being in pain again. Plus, if I did manage to learn how to use the thing to my advantage, I might be able to escape with my new "abilities," whatever those would be.

I went to bed that night still thinking. I've heard tell that if you go to sleep thinking about something, your brain will keep working on it, and you'll wake up a lot further along than you were before. Well, guess what? It's true. I woke up with one fixed, solid idea.

The trigger couldn't be a word. I couldn't use my brother's name, or anything short like that. No blinking, no snapping fingers. It had to be something prolonged, so that when it was on, it was always on, and when it was off, it was always off. Something that kept going as long as I needed, and then stopped when I was done. A prolonged and controllable stimulant…

What kinds of things could do that?

Talking. No, horrible idea. I'd wear my voice out too fast. But along the lines of talking… singing? _I_ couldn't do the singing; I'd be faced with the same problem. But what if… someone else was doing it?

Not a person, obviously. But a pair of earbuds and a wireless server… or, here in the golden palace, maybe a fancy holospeaker. Yeah, that could work…

Music. I could use music.

I jumped at a knock on the door. "Come in," I said instinctively.

Talia walked in. "Good morning. My father wishes—"

"I'm ready," I blurted out.

"Ready?"

"I know what I want my trigger to be."

Talia's face twitched from calm to intent. "Come with me. Quickly."

Without even changing into day clothes, I followed Talia out of my room and to Ra's' office. He looked up as we stormed in.

"She has chosen," Talia announced. "It's time."

Ra's nodded. "I thought today might be the day. Come here, Samantha."

I crossed the room as he waved me over. He handed me a small, plastic rectangle with a red light on one end.

"Hold this."

"What is it?"

"It will make the transition smoother."

I nodded, suddenly nervous. This was it. No going back now.

"Tell me," Ra's said, leaning eagerly over his desk, "what have you chosen?"

I faltered. "I though… I could use music. I've always believed that music has the power to excite the mind, to give people the power to do things they couldn't on their own. It's controllable, and it will be obvious when the chip is on and off, based on when the music is playing or not."

Ra's nodded. "Music. Indeed. Can you think of any drawbacks?"

I shrugged. "I only just came up with the idea. Can you?"

"Only one. Your family has always been very musical, correct?"

"Yeah, so?"

"Your mind is wired to interact with music on a much deeper level than the average person," Ra's said, pacing the floor. "For you, music is more than noise; it is expression, emotion, almost a living entity. The danger, my dear, is that it may begin to control you more than you control it."

My face fell. "That's… true. Do you think I shouldn't use it?"

Ra's spread his hands wide. "In the end, everything will have a drawback. You've already discovered one point of failure your brother did not; I have had to deal with him several times when he forgot his chip was on. If you believe you can control it – if you are ready to put all your effort into mastering it – then I believe music will be perfectly suitable."

I pondered the question. Music was important to me, yes. I often used it to match or change my mood. But I always had control over it; I could turn it off if I needed or change the song if asked. Surely, it wouldn't be any different with the music I used to activate the chip.

"Whenever you are ready," Ra's said, "open your mind. Let yourself imagine what it will be like to turn it on, to hear that music and feel the change."

I closed my eyes and tried to imagine how this was going to work. I imagined myself, standing still, ordinary, no powers. I made sure my mind was silent. No music.

Then I imagined a song starting. I heard the gentle, loving strum of a guitar; those were my father's fingers, plucking away. A low humming followed, the murmur of a soft voice, forming a piece of music I knew well from my childhood - the first song I could remember my mother singing. They were sitting on the couch; I was on the floor, staring up at the giants of my childhood. This was how I wanted to remember my parents – singing.

Listen to them, I told myself. Listen to their music, and let it sweep through you and empower you. The song was peaceful, but the feeling it sparked in my chest – it was painful and fierce and ached like bliss. It tensed my muscles and heightened my senses. A mile away, my hands flexed, and my fingers spread wide.

I could feel something click into place. Something shifted, and suddenly, I was beyond myself, imagining things I had never even considered. How my body could move, all the ways I could use it - to dance, to leap, to reach new heights; but also to fight, to grapple and tear and bend the world to my will. I saw new ways I could use my mind - to see, to hear, to notice; to solve life's mysteries, to understand the impossible, to achieve mastery of anything and everything. I could think, I could do - I could dream.

My eyes flickered open. The music faded, and with it, the feeling.

I stood in front of Ra's al Ghul, my arms hanging at my sides like electric power lines, tingling with energy. "I… think I did it."

"Excellent." Ra's was staring at me, as if I were some brand new fascination, some indulgent delicacy he couldn't wait to dig into. My hair rose, and I backed away.

Ra's realized my discomfort and rearranged his face into pleasant placidity. "Yes, wonderful. Well, then, if you don't mind, I believe we can begin testing you. See what your limits are, start to build up your tolerance to switching back and forth, simply the basics. Talia will take you to the training room."

I turned around to see Talia standing in the doorway. She had changed her clothes; she wore a tight-fitting bodysuit, with belts strapped around her waist and over her shoulder. Each belt had a sword in a sheath attached to it. Her hair was pulled back and braided.

She was prepared to fight. She was going to fight _me_.

/

As we walked, I tried to wrap my mind around what had just happened. If Ra's was telling the truth, if Jem was anything to go by, then… I had legit superpowers now. I could do _anything_.

But better still, if Ra's al Ghul was right, I wouldn't ever have another attack. My body and the chip had finally settled into harmony. I was healed. I was free! I felt the urge to jump up and punch my fists into the air. I only held back because Talia was absolutely silent, and I felt like I shouldn't do anything unexpected or she might judo flip me.

I admit it, I was actually looking forward to training. I wanted to see how far I could go, and if I still had room to improve. I imagined myself training opposite the boys, or Batman, even the Justice League – building up my strength and learning new moves, new techniques. Anything was possible, anything!

"Samantha."

I snapped out of my dazed wonderings to see that Talia and I had arrived at the training center. There were only a couple people sparring, and one of the mats was wide open – probably reserved for us.

"So," Talia said, waving to a ninja standing off to the side. "You've found your trigger."

I nodded excitedly. Then I hesitated. "Except… how am I going to use it here? I don't think you have… headphones. Or a sound system."

"You chose music." Talia tapped her chin. "Do you suppose something played directly on instruments would work?"

"Um, probably."

Talia turned to the ninja, who had dashed to her side the instant she called. "Find me Batu," she said.

"Who's Batu?" I asked.

Talia smiled. "When I was training my son, I taught him everything, including the arts. Batu is the man who taught him the art of rhythm. He would often accompany our sparring sessions with a beat of some kind, to challenge us."

"So… he's a drummer?"

"The very best."

In a few minutes, one of the ninjas returned, leading a rather elderly, bent man. He nodded to Talia respectfully.

"My lady Talia. What do you wish of me?"

"Music. A good, steady, fast rhythm. For sparring."

Batu smiled and patted a single goblet-shaped drum he had tucked under his arm. He sat himself down on the floor and let his hands hover over the drumhead.

Talia positioned me across from her on the mat. She quickly showed me a fighting stance; I knew I looked stupid, but it was my first time. I'm sure even Damian didn't know how to do this once. When I was ready, Talia nodded to Batu.

The drummer's hands were wrinkled and shook a little as they hung in suspense. I wondered if he would be able to maintain a beat. He must be a lot older than he was when he taught Damian.

Then his hands fell, and I realized that I was mistaken.

His fingers flew across the surface, pounding and tapping out a rhythm that was a melody in itself. I could feel something shift in me, and suddenly, I was watching, not a man drumming, but each movement, how every one of his muscles tensed and released to create the motion that hit the drum that made the sound that was the beat. I smiled an intense and wild smile, then let my attention shift from Batu to myself. I knew that the beat was enough music for me. My body was ready and willing to do anything I could think.

At the same time, Talia drew both of her swords, flung one at me, and got into a ready stance.

My eye moved as fast as lightning. I watched as the sword fell toward me, spinning end over end, slowly, as if I had run ahead and time was catching up. I waited until the last minute, then let my hand fall open, resting in just the place where the grip would land. It slid gently, easily into place, and I curled my fingers around it, feeling the balance empower me, lengthening my reach, giving it a lethal edge.

I caught a glimpse of sharp metal rushing toward me. I could tell its trajectory would end at my throat. I had to stop Talia's sword with mine. My mind rushed through every movie I had ever watched, every book I had ever read, everything I knew about the art of the sword. My arm moved quickly, and the blade in my hand moved with it, both in perfect unison, to break the sword from Talia's grip. If I did that, she'd be defenseless; I'd be open to move in, to bring down, to make the final move, to win-

Wait!

Talia made a sudden movement. Her feet hit the floor with nothing more than a tap; then she was just behind me. I spun around and spied the enemy approaching, her sword tip almost to my leg, so I danced out of her reach, my sword rushing to stop hers. Simple, as if rehearsed. We wove in and out for minutes longer; I'm constantly getting stronger – and I start to feel an urge, a desperate need. My body wants to do something, something I haven't even considered yet. I can do so much more!

I crouch toward the ground and bring my foot around. Talia flips over it, easy. In her flip, she forgot to cover her throat. My sword rises, and she turns midair to stop my hand, catches blade with blade. I turn, I rise, I fall, I dance. Reach out, jump back, defense, offense. She can't catch up; I'm powerful, more powerful than she could ever hope to be.

I see my opening and take it. Talia has to move away from my blade, but she's trapped – she has to move backward. I'm too fast; she has to fall. She has to clutch the ground, has to close her eyes against my inevitable victory. My opportunity arises. I can end her, here and now. I raise my sword to strike.

"Stop!"

A body shoved itself between my blade and my victim. I registered a mask, familiar. My mind rushed through a million thoughts to find the right one. My brother, Jem…

"Stop," Jem yelled again, and this time, Batu ceased drumming.

Instantly, my mind screeched to a halt, like a freight train hitting a barrier. I noticed the lack of sound first and foremost, and the stunning silence it created. Then I noticed how much bigger the room felt, how zoomed in my focus had been, how distant everything was...

Jem tore off his mask. "Sam! It's over; calm down."

I realized my breathing was wild and rushed. Then I started to feel the aching in my bones – ugh, every muscle in my body was screaming in pain. And my head was pounding, too. Was this an aftereffect of the chip doing its thing to my brain?

"Ow," I groaned.

"You'll be sore for a bit. Here."

Jem helped me lower myself to the ground. I tossed my sword aside and started massaging my muscles, breathing heavily. I felt worn out; I must have torn something, judging by the way everything hurt.

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah," I said. Then I glanced up. Jem wasn't talking to me. He had his hand extended to Talia, who gracefully took it and stood.

"I should have mentioned," Talia said, moving like she hadn't even gotten a bruise. "Your mind will be able to command your body to do whatever it needs, but your body might not be ready to handle it yet."

"You're telling me now?"

"You need to work on building up your strength and agility, that's all," Jem said. "Judging by that performance, you'll be the best of us in no time."

 _The best of us._

I couldn't help a shudder. He meant the best of the League of Assassins.

I glanced over Jem's shoulder at Talia, beginning to understand what I had done. The chip worked, clear as clear. But it had taken me _far_ beyond what I had expected. Almost too far…

"Talia," I breathed. "I could've killed you."

"You could've tried. I doubt you would have succeeded."

Jem crouched beside me. "Don't worry; there are people watching. You won't be able to kill anyone here; definitely not by accident."

That sounded a little like a threat. But something in his voice, the sincerity of it, made me pause. It was almost like… he didn't _want_ me to kill. I narrowed my eyes.

"Thank you for stopping me."

He nodded. "Anything for my sister."

Curiouser and curiouser.

Jem got up and bowed to Talia. "I should get back to my training."

"You are dismissed," Talia said disinterestedly. Jem nodded again and trotted back to the other side of the room, replacing his mask.

I watched him go, suspicion still buzzing in my head. He was hiding something from me. I started to wonder – did he stop me just to protect Talia?

Or did he have more of a moral center than I had thought?

"I believe that was a sufficient test of your abilities," Talia said, peering down at me. "You may rest for the remainder of the day. Tomorrow, I will begin to train you without the chip."

"Thanks," I muttered. I winced and started to pick myself up. "Can I… get back to my room?"

"Follow me."

/

I had always loved the gym. Mostly because my Dad worked there. But I also strangely enjoyed the pleasure I got from a good day's work, and the knowledge that, over time, I was making my body stronger. It's highly likely that I also got some inspiration from the Batfam. When you live in Gotham, you're bound to wonder eventually - will I ever be up there, stopping crime with the Bat?

Talia's training room was not a gym. It was _so_ much worse.

For a straight week, she had me pushing my body to the limits, lifting weights, running, stretching. My muscles were constantly sore, and I had to limp everywhere because my legs were so tired they could've fallen off and I wouldn't notice.

And that was just testing.

Once Talia knew where I was strong, where I was weak, and what I still needed to learn, she forged a complete training plan and started running me through it. I couldn't believe some of the things she wanted me to do. She had me do a few normal things, like practice sword fighting, do complicated stretches, or lift weights. But then she'd make me juggle eggs. Or she would take me outside and tell me to sketch the outer wall of the palace. Once she threw a fifty-pound weight at my head with no warning.

I grew up washing plates. I wasn't ready for any of this.

Every so often, she would show up at my door and lead me blindfolded to some exotic location. The first place she took me was a dense rainforest. It was nice enough until she pointed to a pool of dingy water and told me to get in. She had me practice holding my breath underwater for the better part of a day; I'd barely even learned to swim before. I cried that night.

Another time, she flew me out to a different forest, this one much less wet, and for a purpose. She wanted me to walk soundlessly from one end to the other. I probably stepped on every single twig, leaf, and small shrub on the forest floor. When I came out, I found her standing there eating an apple.

"Again," she said. She didn't even look up.

Then she found some forsaken patch of icy wasteland and forced me to test my strength by taking off most of my clothes and seeing how long I could go without shivering. I failed that the moment I began. I had ice burns on my feet for a week, but she didn't let me rest. Instead, she forced me to work harder, so I would "learn to channel the pain."

This went on for weeks. Each morning, I woke up with Talia standing at the door, waiting for me with more tests, more training. Each night, I fell into bed, exhausted, groaning numbly, massaging cold fingers or fainting from heat, sometimes soaking wet, sometimes parched and desperate for relief. It seemed like the torture would never end.

Then came the day that I managed to do a complete backflip. And then the day I lifted my weight in lead. The day I caught the eggs without cracking them, and then held my breath underwater for a full minute. Slowly, I began to grow and strengthen. The things that seemed difficult before were hardly worth blinking at, and the things that challenged me were more invigorating than fearsome.

After a month had passed, I was running five miles a day. I could catch any object thrown at me with a half second's glance. I had memorized every crevice of the palace wall, and I could scale it in under a minute. Best of all, I could perform almost any kind of flip, twist, and somersault with ease.

So, one morning, Talia brought me back to the training room and gave me a sword.

"It's time," she said, "to use your gifts."

I examined the sword in my hand. If my eyes didn't betray me - and after Talia's training, I trusted them completely - this was the same sword I had used to fight her a month ago.

"I'll need music," I said.

"I haven't been idle this past month."

I looked over to see Batu and his drum, sitting between a couple new men with fascinating foreign instruments. I gave them a tentative smile; they didn't respond.

"Ready stance, Samantha."

"Right. Sorry." I slid my feet apart and sank my weight to my core. The sword I held almost casually, light in my hand, ready to move it at a moment's notice. It all felt so natural now. I was tempted to fall into a reminiscent daze; unfortunately, there wasn't time.

At a nod from Talia, the musicians began to play.

I felt a wonderful, familiar sensation. My eyes widened, my fingers tightened around the sword hilt, and my mind opened like a floodgate released. I lunged for Talia. The movements all came quick and easy, and my eye saw everything, her blade, her grip, her stance. I knew my opponent like the back of my hand.

My second time around, I found the fight more like a dance. My body was trained and prepared. I knew just how it worked and what it could do, so I let it perform to its fullest extent. My legs were stronger; I could jump higher, travel further, change directions in a heartbeat. I moved like the end of a whip, tripping her up, slipping past her blade, bowing and rising like a tree in the wind. I used both blade and hilt, I traded right hand for left. I went for her legs, she jumped aside, I followed through.

Every movement is as natural as blinking; it couldn't be simpler if it had been choreographed. And yet, I still haven't beaten Talia. Maybe all that training made me more refined, but has it also made me weaker?

My moment of speculation costs me concentration. Talia winks at me and drives her blade toward my ribs. I laugh and slap her blade away with mine. She's left herself open; I could do it now. I could take her down. This is my fight, my victory.

Then my brother's voice echoes through my head.

 _Stop._

That second is just a bit too long. Talia's back up, sword in hand. Her blade is whistling down at my head, so I raise mine. I shove her back, she lashes out, and I have hardly a moment to get away. The drum's pounding in my head. I can move faster, more powerfully; I know I can. My body is mine to command. If it moves a hair out of line, I force it back on track. There can be no mistakes on the battlefield.

We fight on forever, near perfect equals, even though I'm the only one with enhanced abilities. We don't tire, we just keep moving. It takes forever, but she's finally down. I stand over her, then feel myself pause, holding back.

 _Stop._

She's helpless now. I could end it once and for all. She'd never hurt another family - that's good! Some wild instinct tells me that I ought to obey whatever's in my head - it's time to make the final move, to kill. But there's a center, something like balance, rethinking, recalculating for me. If I kill, then I'm no worse than the al Ghuls. I could kill her now, but I'd break one of my most firm standards in the process. No killing.

 _Stop._

She can't reach her sword. I could do it… but the moment is fading. I could kill her now - or I could live with myself. I could win, or I could let her go with grace, and walk away, perhaps without the upper hand, but with my sanity and virtue intact.

 _Stop._

It's over. The temptation has passed.

Out of the haze of my thoughts, Talia's voice says, "I yield."

"Stop."

The music vanished. I drove my sword into the floor, grinning in triumph. Not just triumph over Talia - I beat the temptation to kill, as well. I felt proud of myself.

"A good first try," Talia said.

I stared at her. "First try? We've been fighting for half an hour at least! And I beat you. Isn't that enough?"

"Almost." Talia got to her feet. "But you're distracted. You're letting your mind run away while your body is occupied. I can see you thinking, even while we fight."

I frowned. "I… maybe a little bit. But I can think and fight at the same time."

"Yes, but each is hampered by the other. There is a time to think, and a time to fight. Fight now. Think on your own time."

"But the only music I have is fighting music!"

"Then, for now, we will practice fighting."

I huffed. "Fine." I massaged my temples. The headache was back. "Is there some kind of…"

"After effect?" Talia nodded. "Yes, Jeremiah reported the same thing when he was using his chip for the first time. It will fade after a while."

"The more I use it, right?"

"Right."

I pinched the bridge of my nose and sighed. "Fine. I'll keep sparring."

"Good. Then let's try again."

/

I didn't just spend my time fighting with Talia. As my skills got better, Ra's seemed to take more and more of an interest in me. He invited me to dinner several times, over which we would talk about my abilities. He seemed especially keen on comparing me with my brother, and had a servant to the side taking notes to pass on to the infamous Doctor Li. On occasion, he invited Jem as well, and we would sit awkwardly side by side as Ra's shamelessly weighed our powers and abilities against each other. At least the food was good.

Afterward, there were late nights, when I would look up from a restless sleep to see Jem at the window, asking to be let in. The first couple times he did this, we would carry a short, uncomfortable conversation and then sit in silence until one of us made up an excuse to part ways.

But after a week or so, he started to grow on me. I found in him an unexpected friend and confidant. We steered away from the controversial topics - like Ra's al Ghul's moral code, my life with Mom and Dad, and other touchy stuff - but anything else was up for discussion.

I found out he knew a little something about dreams and what they mean. Just to test him, I told him about the dream I had that first night, about shrinking into nothing.

"You were overwhelmed," he said, without missing a beat. "You'd been through so much change so suddenly, you felt like you were too small to handle it all." He smiled. "Don't worry; you're handling it just fine."

I slept so little now, I didn't have many other dreams to shoot his way; so, the next couple nights, I thought of old nightmares, like the recurring dream I had of running from a tsunami, or the one where I had to go through an unending series of tight spaces. Every dream he interpreted helped me learn more about myself. And, I could tell, he was learning about me, too. I didn't expect that to become so deep.

On a lighter note, he told me about making his Oddjob mask, how he was inspired by Chinese Peking opera masks and the symbolism behind them. The different colors each had a meaning; he chose red, purple, and black – all the symbolic colors of a hero, showing discipline, intelligence, and bravery. I was a little put off by his seeming arrogance at first. But then I got this silly little image in my head of Jem – baby Jem, the little five-year-old – showing the mask to Mom like it was a craft he had made. He was so proud of his work, that I couldn't help but praise it.

Many nights, I complained about training - how much it hurt, how hard Talia was pushing me - and he would console me by saying that everyone who ever went through Ra's al Ghul's system endured the same thing. Sometimes, we didn't even talk; we would sit and read books from Ra's' library, or practice balancing on the bedsteads, or even just lie on the floor with our feet propped up on the wall, watching the moonlight travel from one side of the room to the other. I remember once, we even had a pillow fight - and trust me, with a member of the League of Assassins on one side, and a ninja-in-training on the other, it was probably the most intense pillow fight in the history of the universe.

I got so comfortable with him that I started to wonder if I could… forgive me, Lord, I thought I could use him. He had said there was a massive computer somewhere that he had used to watch me. The more I fought using Talia's provided instrumentation as a trigger, the more stale the music felt, and the more I wished for some new stimuli. That computer could provide me with tons of music.

But when I broached the subject with Jem, he shut me down almost instantly.

"It's one of Ra's' best kept secrets. He didn't even let me see it without taking me there blindfolded. Even if I could take you, I'd be betraying his trust."

We knew not to pursue that subject further. But the computer tugged at my mind. I suggested it a couple more times, and each time all I got was tight lips. The burning curiosity got worse and worse, until I was completely fed up. I was sick of drumbeats. I had to have heard them all. It was time for a change.

/

The moment Jem swung into the room, I sat up in bed and shot him a fierce glare.

"I need to use that computer," I said.

Jem sighed. "Not tonight, Sam."

"I need more music," I said. "I've been using drums and whatever those weird Egyptian horns are…"

"It's a ney. More of a woodwind than a horn, really."

"Whatever. It's gotten old. I _need_ to experiment, to try something _new_."

"Why? It's all music - it would all have the same effect."

"Unless it wouldn't," I said, leaning toward him. "I've been thinking about this. I have this… _feeling_. Like there's more that I could do, but I can't unlock it. The drums sort of hint at it, but they don't let me access it. I want to know if other kinds of music might help me get through."

"You can't use the computer," Jem said firmly.

"Are you worried I'll steal all of your secrets? I'm not-"

I'd almost said Tim Drake. I winced inside. I hadn't thought of Tim in a while. Now wasn't a good time.

"I'm not a genius. I don't think I could hack Ra's al Ghul's super-secret computer if he told me to."

"With your chip working, you might. I have. It's one of the tests Li had me perform."

"So, he might do the same for me."

"He's more interested in your fighting abilities at the moment."

"Yes, but I've done that! I can't do that forever! I need something else. I need a change."

"Ra's will grant you privileges like that when you're ready."

"How am I not ready, Jem? Huh? How am I not up to his standards yet? I've been here for over a month. Yes, I've been counting. Captives do it all the time."

Jem flinched. "Sam, you're not a…"

"A captive? I've been kidnapped, Jem. Face it. Ra's kidnapped me. Maybe it's for a reason, yes, but sometimes kidnappers have reasons. Like how Ra's kidnapped you, so he could implant a biochip into your cerebral cortex and force you to become a freaking assassin."

"Nobody forced me into anything," Jem said, his voice dangerously level.

"Okay, then, coerced, if you will. He's still using you! Using the powers he's planted in your brain to do his dirty wor-"

"SHUT UP!"

I scowled at my brother. He was standing with his back to me, his shoulders tense, his fists clenched.

"You know why we don't talk about this, Sam. Drop it now, and let's move on to something we can both agree on. Okay?"

"You think there's going to be a better time to talk about it?" I crossed my arms. "The way I see it, you're a pawn - a pawn captured by the other side and then forced to play for them. Your loyalty to Ra's doesn't matter. He would force you to play for him even if you hated his guts, like I do. You're just as much a hostage here as I am."

Jem whirled around and threw a flying punch at my head. But I wasn't helpless anymore. I deflected it easily, catching his wrist as it passed. I reached out and grabbed his opposite shoulder, then pushed and pulled at the same time to wrestle him onto the bed. He leaned back and wrapped a leg around my head, toppling me off the bed. As I fell, I pulled him with me; we started wrestling wildly on the ground, ignoring our training and just punching, pushing, pulling, doing whatever we could to try to get the upper hand.

Then, out of the blue, Jem yelled, "Samantha!"

I didn't realize what was happening until it was too late. The instant my name passed his lips, his eyes went wide, his pupils contracted, and every movement he made was twice as powerful as before. I barely threw a punch before he had pinned me to the ground, one arm behind my back.

"I have the advantage," Jem said, panting. "I can trigger a connection with one word. How foolish, to choose a stimulant that requires outside help. You will always be weaker than I am."

"You used your chip," I growled, my cheek pressed to the floor. "No fair."

"Life isn't fair," Jem hissed in my ear. "Better to learn that now, little sister. Life will never be fair, so stop acting so entitled."

"Entitled?! Who's the one acting entitled? With all of your purpose and privileges, thinking you're going to be the one to make the world a better place—"

"Just because you don't understand it doesn't mean it's not the truth. Ra's needs me. And the world needs Ra's al Ghul. It logically follows that I am a necessary piece in the puzzle of Earth's future…"

"Samantha!"

Jem laughed. "Nice try, but only I can do that."

"Get off me, you… you traitor!"

"Who did I betray? Mom and Dad never knew; they would never have cared if I were a lawyer, a painter, or an assassin. I was dead to them. And now they're dead for good, so what do they matter?"

"Do you think that means they can't see you?"

"Don't tell me you believe in Heaven."

"What if I do? I believe they're still with me. I believe they can see you, and all the ways that you've abandoned them and the things they taught you!"

"What would that matter to me?" Jem snarled. "What does their teaching mean to me? What did I learn, besides 'share nicely?' 'Be kind?' None of that works in the real world. The real world takes advantage of the generous and hates the kind. The future will only ever be influenced by those who gain power and use it."

"Mom and Dad…"

"Were kind, right? They were good? That's what you were thinking? Well, what did that ever do for them? Oh, sure, they were kind. They were _nice_. And now they're dead. They left nothing behind - did nothing for the future of this world. What does their kindness and niceness matter to anyone now? Pathetic."

"Jem, stop it!"

"Your weakness is your heart, little sister! Give them up, and you will begin to understand the truth. The truth I found. Yield, and let me teach you!"

I had no words. I screamed at him, my eyes streaming tears of pain and anger. I wrestled against him, but he had me in a tight grip. I couldn't move. In that moment, I hated him. So I cried.

After a moment, Jem stopped putting so much pressure on me. Softly, I heard him say, "Samantha."

I cradled my twisted arm, lying on the floor, sobbing. Jem sat back, silent. I couldn't look at him. I couldn't look at those wild, angry, intelligent eyes. That wasn't my brother. It was a power-hungry, psychopathic, delusional monster.

Minutes passed. My sobs died down, and in the silence, I began to feel empty. I was so tired of this - loving my brother, yet fighting against him, hating his mentor and the beliefs they shared; gaining knowledge I didn't want, and powers I never asked for; being closer to my family than I had been in months, and somehow feeling even more isolated.

I felt something nudge my foot. Jem was trying to get my attention. I didn't want to give it to him.

Then I heard him speak, his voice barely a whisper.

"I'm sorry."

I stayed still, staring at the shadows under the bed. Isn't that what I wanted? For him to be sorry? I was tired, and alone, and homesick. I wanted to love him. But how could I, when I would _always_ disagree with him?

Then it hit me. Did I have to agree with him to love him? I could love him as much as I wanted. I was allowed to love him as much as my heart was begging me to. Because, like Mom said all those years ago, love was about wanting the best for someone. Wanting them to have the best possible life. No matter whether they were there yet or not.

I got up and crawled to my brother, then curled up next to him. He went tense for a minute, but when I didn't move again, he started to relax. He didn't reach out for me or touch me. He just sat, perfectly still, like he was waiting.

He was waiting for me. I filled the silence.

"I forgive you."

I could hear him as he sighed out a pent-up breath. All was forgiven. Everything was alright now. He and I both felt it, like a much-needed cool breeze.

I felt a looming sense of suspicion that I would have to forgive him a lot before all of this was over. But I would do it wholeheartedly. No matter if he was an assassin, had killed people, believed something I couldn't - I loved him. With a power that shook my heart, I loved him. I would never stop giving him second chances.

We fell asleep, right there on the floor, lying side by side.


	3. Chapter 3: Frenemy

**Chapter 3 - Frenemy**

I woke up to sunlight on my face. The windows were open, letting in the cool morning air. Jem was nowhere to be seen.

And I was tucked into bed. I smiled sadly, remembering when Dad would do that, late at night after a gig, while I blinked up at him with sleepy eyes. I wondered if Jem had memories like that. If he had, would he have turned out like he did?

I got up and walked onto the balcony, breathing in the soft sweetness of the day. I hadn't really thought about it before, but wherever I was, it was one of the most temperate climates I had ever encountered. There was never a morning that didn't begin with bright sunshine and gentle breezes; never a day that passed in humid discomfort. Staring out at that serene blue sky and the swaying trees in the distance, I asked myself the same question I had been asking since I arrived: Where am I?

At that moment, Talia came to collect me for training. But when I turned to follow her, I noticed she wasn't wearing combat gear.

"Are we not sparring today?"

Talia smiled. "My dear. _We_ are never going to spar again."

I blinked. "I'm sorry, what?"

"You've surpassed me in skill," she said, shrugging. "I've been expecting this for a while. But yesterday, you beat me in every match. It took time, yes, and we will continue to work on speed, but I can no longer demonstrate; I can only instruct. It's time you moved to the next step in your training."

I caught my breath. "Does that mean… new music?"

"No, unfortunately."

"Unfortunately?"

Talia smiled, her eyes tense. "I've been… asking my father for permission to use a different style of music. But he has said, 'Not yet.' I don't know how long we're meant to wait, but what my father says, I do."

"Oh." My shoulders sagged. "Okay. Then… who's my new partner?"

Talia gave me a bemused look. "Your brother."

My stomach clenched. I would be fighting Jem? I had already done that last night, and I didn't like it. He was frightening when his chip was on. But then again… last night, I hadn't been using mine. Maybe when we were both connected to our chips, it would be different. I hoped so. I didn't want to disobey Ra's any more than Talia did.

I squared my shoulders and nodded firmly. "Alright, then. Let's go."

Talia and I travelled to the training room, where we met Jem standing in our usual sparring spot. He was dressed in a training outfit - a loose-fitting grey tunic and trousers, much like mine, with a green belt tied around his waist. As we approached, he smiled. But I could tell he was nervous to see me; he kept shifting his weight, playing with the seam of his trousers. That little tick was a bit unprofessional – and a bit boyish. It was strangely refreshing.

"Good morning, Sam," he said nonchalantly, though his eyes searched me nervously. "How did you sleep?"

"Wonderfully well," I replied, giving him the warmest grin I could muster. "Thank you."

He relaxed considerably. "I'm glad of that. Shall we begin?"

"Swords or fists?"

"Fists, for now."

We took our places - ten feet apart, crouched in a ready stance, sizing each other up. Talia nodded, pleased.

"Good posture; keep your eyes on your opponent. Jeremiah, for this first round, you will fight without the aid of your chip. You've bested me in combat without it. See if you can hold your own against your sister."

A laugh nearly escaped my mouth. I didn't have to fight chip-Jem, at least for one round.

"Are you ready?" he asked across the mat.

"Ready."

Talia gave a signal, and Batu and the other musicians started playing. My mind forged ahead into battle. In a glance, I took in my brother's stance, his feet wide, placed for staying and for leaving. His arms held close to his body, his face like a shield, both physical and mental. Who goes first?

We begin to circle, one step at a time, following an invisible line, trailing closer and closer to each other. We will reach each other in seconds, inches…

My eye catches a movement, the jab of a fist. I bend to the side, letting his arm pass by me, catching a glimpse of my next move. I've got a quick swing, so I bring my arm down, expecting it to hit. But he grabs my arm. He makes a move I never expected.

Jem's a different music.

As I do my best to fight back, I rethink my options. I thought I had the upper hand. I've been fighting Talia since I got here; I know her movements by heart. But Jem has a different style, and I'm unprepared. Talia takes offensive, but it's always thoughtful, with an opening for retreat. She knows how to wait and plan. Jem doesn't worry about that; he hits and hammers with everything he's got; he loves to go first. I can't read his face; but I can read his body. I notice my first advantage.

He's not fully grown.

I start to aim my attacks at his limbs. He may have learned how to control it, but he's still lanky and awkward, like any growing boy would be. I dance away from a punch, crouch, and go for the legs. Dislodge one and the other loses balance; I've got him on his back.

His weakness is also a secret weapon. He can flail his arms, and I can't hold them both down. He's longer and stronger than I am. I'll have to make him smaller to win.

I start folding. I catch him while he's still down, knock one elbow so the arm bends; twist it around and pin it. Dig my knee into his as he tries to get up. I'm behind him now; I wrap my other arm around his shoulder. He can't touch me from here.

"Yield."

Jem squirms for a moment, testing my hold. Will I break?

Not likely; I was taught by Talia al Ghul.

Jem sighs. "I yield."

The musicians stopped, and my mind slowed down. This part was easy now; I hardly noticed the shift in focus.

Jem turned his head and whispered: "Now we're even."

I laughed and rolled off him. He sat up and wiped the sweat from his brow.

"Round one goes to you, Sam. But watch out for round two." He hopped to his feet, spry and controlled. I wondered how I had ever guessed his weakness; he hardly seemed lanky now.

Jem glanced at Talia. "May I?"

"Yes, Jeremiah, you may use your chip now."

Jem grinned. "Time to see how we work together. Are you ready?"

I tried to smile back, but my gut felt all twisted. Last round had been fairly simple; but now I was going to have to look at those horrible eyes. What if I couldn't beat him? What if he pinned me down again, and started saying those horrible things about Mom and Dad? What if I didn't recognize him, just like last night?

Jem caught my pained look and reached out his hand. "I'll go easy on you. I promise."

I hesitantly put my hand in his, and we shook. Twin's honor, we would fight as partners and not enemies. Neither of us were angry this time. We would spar, not battle.

We took our stances, ten feet apart, ready to move. The drums started up. Jem spoke my full name, loudly and clearly.

The match began.

With a different opponent, and the understanding that I would have to change tactics, my mind seemed to go to a different place. I observed the battle as from a distance, watching myself as well as Jem. He wasn't nearly as unbalanced with the chip working for him; I'd have to target something else. But then he was through my defenses and throwing me to the ground. I couldn't target anything. I just had to fight.

For a few minutes, our movements were little more than heavy blows. I could tell I would have a lot of bruises later on. But I was starting to read him. And I could tell he was starting to read me. As we grew to understand each other, our movement became smoother, and we started to find a rhythm. The fight became more dance-like, and there was a lot less bruising. We wove in and out of each other's defenses, getting the upper hand one moment, losing it the next.

Time seemed to go on and on, but we never drained. The longer we fought, the more I enjoyed it. I actually began to smile, blocking his blows, sliding around to trip him, ducking under his swing, flipping him over my back. And then he would make his moves: catching my fist, sweeping toward my throat, leaping over me, spinning me around. It didn't feel like a fight anymore. I was almost like… _play_.

At one point, he managed to grab both of my arms. He pinned one behind my back and held the other one in a fierce grip I couldn't shake. I found myself kneeling, bent toward the floor – almost exactly how I had pinned him last time.

"Yield," he said.

"Not a chance," I threw back. I swung one leg around, knocking his feet from under him. He was only surprised for a second; he turned his fall into a backward somersault and was back on his feet fast. But I was ready for him with a quick fist, and he was ready for me with a hand to block it.

And so it went. I had thought Talia and I were evenly matched. But Jem and I had been going for hours, and whenever one of us got the upper hand, the other one rose to take it from them. In the back of my mind, I knew that I couldn't do this forever, nor could Jem. But I enjoyed it too much to stop.

For the first time, my brother and I were in perfect harmony.

I don't know how long it took. My internal clock counted several hours, but I was too busy fighting to count seconds. But, at long last, I found myself betrayed by the all-too-human weakness of fatigue. My knee gave for only a millisecond, but it gave Jem to opportunity to step in and take me down. He got me on the ground in a headlock, pressed to his shoulder so I couldn't bash his nose in; he had my arms pinned behind me, and knelt in such a position that kicking wouldn't touch him.

I caught my breath, somehow still smiling. "I yield."

I could feel Jem heave a sigh of relief. He released me and murmured, "Samantha."

The drums stopped at the same time. With my chip off, my fatigue slammed into me hard. Jem and I collapsed on the ground, gasping for breath as our normal bodily functions tried to reason out what we had just done to them. I may have passed out for a couple seconds; it's a blur.

Once I got my breath back and didn't feel so off-kilter, I turned my head to look at Jem. He was already facing me, grinning like mad.

"That," he panted, "was awesome."

I laughed wearily and reached out my fist. He stared at it in confusion. It dawned on me that Ra's' ninjas probably didn't do fist bumps.

"You hit it with your fist. It's like a high five, but more… bro-ish."

Jem chuckled at me and lifted his fist to bump mine. "I think I've seen people do that before. I wondered what it was."

Talia gave a low cough to signal her impatience. Jem and I sat up and looked at her expectantly.

Talia's mouth twitched, as if she were considering a smile. "A good day's work. Father will be pleased."

"Are we going to have to do that again?" I asked.

"Of course. If you want to grow stronger, you need an opponent that will challenge you."

I groaned and lay back down. "How long even was that?"

"Seven hours."

"Seven…!"

Jem snorted. "It felt like twenty. I actually didn't expect it to be that short."

"You were evenly matched and had no reason to quit. I expected no less on the first day."

"So what now?" I asked, getting up again.

"We go again," Jem said.

I blinked. "What?"

Talia nodded. "Jeremiah won; that means you, Samantha, still have some work to do. Another round should decide how much."

"I lost because I was tired, not because I was less skilled. Chances are, I'm going to lose the second time, too."

"Then learn how to lose and improve."

Jem stood up and held out his hand to me. I was tempted to pout and sulk. I had no desire to go through another seven hours battling my brother for dominance. But what else was I going to do? I had nowhere else to be. Nothing else to do.

Unless you count escaping this place… and until I could defeat every last one of Ra's al Ghul's flunkies, I would never make it out. That included my brother.

I took Jem's hand and got to my feet. At least I could savor this time I had to fight with Jem as partners and equals… before I had to fight him as an enemy.

/

The second fight was only three hours long, and Jem was once again the winner. Talia had us go through one more round, looking rather sour-faced. Clearly, I was not performing at the level she wanted me. When I lost again, she finally gave up.

"That's enough for today," she said, gazing down at me. "Father is expecting both of you at dinner. I will send someone to collect you in half an hour. Make yourselves presentable."

She walked out of the training room, silent and sullen. I lay on the floor, panting, my clothes drenched with sweat. I didn't want to move; but if I didn't get back to my room, I would have to go to dinner like this.

Jem got up next to me. He looked just as hot and tired as I was, but he was smiling. "Come on. I'll help you up."

I didn't understand how he could be so perky. I felt like an undercooked pancake. The word "sloppy" came to mind; I felt sloppy. I let Jem help me to my feet; then I followed as he led me to my room.

"Are you okay?" he asked as we walked.

"No," I said grumpily. "I've been sparring with you all day. I lost three times in a row. Now Talia's upset with me, and she's going to make me do it again tomorrow."

"You won the first time. I'm sure you'll do better with time; you and I should be evenly matched."

"Yeah," I snapped. "We should be."

"I'm sorry," Jem said. "I didn't mean to offend—"

"It's fine."

We trudged along in silence for a minute. Then he said, "You know Talia's not angry, right?"

I snorted. He thought that bothered me? I was going to shrug it off. But there was a knot in my back that said otherwise.

"If she's not angry, why does she look at me like I'm a huge disappointment?"

"She's observing you. Looking for something she doesn't see yet."

"Gee, thanks."

"I mean that in the best way. I've been using my powers for a lot longer than you have. Did you really think you'd beat me on the first day?"

"We were tied for so long…"

"We were both at peak strength, both using our chips, and both doing so for the first time. The match was bound to be even for a while. But I've been training for longer; I have better stamina, and… even if you did catch me off guard once, I'm stronger and more controlled than I look. Don't feel bad if you can't beat me; you're just not there yet."

I made a face. "You sure know how to make a girl feel better."

"I'm only giving you the truth. I get the feeling you don't like being lied to."

We had reached my room, and my brain wandered to thoughts of cold water and dry clothes. I opened my door to walk in, but I hesitated.

"Is there something I'm missing? Some kind of trick to keep my chip from… overloading my body or something?"

"If there is, I wouldn't be able to tell you. Either I've not found it, or I have and don't know how. Either way, I think your best bet is to just keep at it."

I leaned my head against the door and sighed. "Okay. See you later."

"Yeah, you, too."

"Sam…"

I glanced back. "What?"

Jem smiled. "You did fine today. I think you're improving quite quickly. Don't feel bad about anything; this is all part of progress."

My brow relaxed. "Thanks, Jem. I needed that."

He bent at the waist in a quaint little bow. Then he turned and walked away.

I closed the door, then rushed to get out of my sweaty training gear and into the shower. In this fantastic gold palace, I was still surprised that there were modern showers - and not made of any precious metals. It appeared to just be a regular old porcelain tub and metal shower head. Apparently, there are some things even a creepy immortal stalker and his ninja daughter can't live without.

When I got out of the shower, I discovered that my training clothes had been removed, and in their place were a pair of light pants and a sleeveless blouse. I quickly got dressed, then worked on towel-drying my hair until I heard the knock that meant my escort had arrived. I was led to dinner, where I met Ra's, Talia, and Jem. Ra's was wearing some kind of expensive suit and tie, and Talia was sporting her favorite low-cut shirt and tight-fitting pants.

And Jem… was wearing his Oddjob costume. Soft black trousers, a green belt, and a vest like a Jedi would wear. His head was uncovered, but I noticed as I walked past that his mask hung from his belt. He seemed ready for something.

The meal was brief and light. It could have been a simple dinner, at home, on any night of the week. But Ra's al Ghul was sitting at the head of the table. And if he was here, he probably wanted to talk about something.

Sure enough, when we had finished the main course, he set his napkin aside and leaned forward, folding his hands on the table in front of him.

"Samantha," he said, calmly, collectedly. "I'm afraid I have to send Jeremiah away on a mission."

I set my fork aside. Was that all? I had been expecting something world-shattering. Again. "What kind of mission?"

"Nothing of importance. But you will be left without a sparring partner. Since you are now out of Talia's league, I haven't many options…"

Jem spoke, staring at the table. "Sir, what if she came with me?"

Ra's fixed my brother with the most intense stare I had ever seen. "You are not to interrupt me, Jeremiah. We've spoken at length about this."

Jem shrank into his chair. "Apologies, my lord."

Ra's tapped his chin thoughtfully. "I would love to send you out together. The two of you, working as a team, could be the most powerful force on the planet, excepting perhaps the Kryptonian. But I'm afraid I cannot trust Samantha to follow my orders."

He gave me a pointed look. I realized this must have been what he really wanted to talk about.

I felt something flutter in my chest. It had been more than a month since I had arrived here. In all that time, I had considered escaping maybe thrice. The first time I went outside the palace with Talia, I had had a momentary flash of hope. But she had brought ten ninjas to stand guard. And she herself would probably be enough to stop me from running.

And I had to admit – part of me wanted to be here. The al Ghuls had the means to train me, to teach me how to use my chip. Now that I knew it was there, and that I could use it to fight, I wanted to get as good as possible. I could escape later, and when I did, maybe I could become a superhero or something. But right now, I had to learn more.

But now, Ra's was offering me a chance to leave the palace of his own volition. He was handing me a means of escape on a silver platter. When I realized I might be able to get away without ninjas watching me, without Talia monitoring my every move… oh, I yearned for it! I could finally escape this golden, glittering trap. I could see Bruce, the boys… Alfred.

 _Alfred._

As soon as I felt the hope of freedom rising in me, I had to work to push it down. If Ra's was ever going to let me leave, I had to prove I was with him beyond a shadow of a doubt. I had to persuade him that I could be trusted. And that meant I had to act. I had Pennyworth blood in my veins; I could do it.

Ra's was watching me closely. "I'm afraid I can't let you go with Jeremiah this time. But perhaps… if you were to give me assurance of your loyalty… if I could be sure my trust in you was well placed… perhaps I could let you go with him some other time."

I had to move slowly. I had to play it just right. I couldn't move until I knew it was safe to move - couldn't take a step until I was sure of my footing.

"That sounds fair. Sir."

Jem looked at me, sorry and sad. "Maybe next time, Sam."

Ra's nodded. "Very well. Then I shall have to make arrangements for some other form of training until Jeremiah returns."

"I can continue her physical training," Talia offered. "It is no use to grow in one area if you let another fall slack. She can still improve."

"Very good," Ra's said, sitting back. "Yes, that should be fine."

With the end of the conversation came the final course of dinner. I ate with enthusiasm, my spirits much improved. If I played my cards right, and took my time, I would finally be able to leave this place. I would finally see the Waynes – finally see my family again.

 _I'm coming, Alfred._

/

I woke up the next morning to find Jem standing awkwardly in the balcony doorway. He always seemed awkward around me nowadays. He had a bag slung over his shoulder. I sat up, rubbing the sleep from my eyes.

"Heading out?"

"Yes." Jem tugged at the trousers of his costume. "Sam, I… I'd like to apologize again for the other night."

"You don't have to," I said. "I forgive you."

He closed his eyes, like my words were a sudden wind. "I know. But I shouldn't have hurt you. I don't expect you to forgive that."

I slid out of bed and crossed the room. "Jem. I will always forgive you. You're my brother."

Jem didn't meet my eyes. "You shouldn't do that. If you forgive too quickly, you'll never really understand how much a person can hurt you."

My lips parted. I was stunned. Who taught him that? "I don't think that's healthy."

"It's the truth." He finally looked at me, almost defiantly. "Some people never forgive, and I grant that that's bad. But some people have no filter for forgiveness; they let anything go. Anyone can hurt them, however badly, and they'll gloss over it like it was nothing. My way… is the middle way."

"Is this about balance, again?"

"I know we don't agree about this, so I won't force you to—"

"No, wait. We can work on this. Jem, forgiving people isn't a weakness, okay? It's actually a strength. See, if someone hurts you, you can let it consume you, let yourself throw everything away pursuing anger and hatred. Or… you can forgive them and move on with your life." I peered at him, trying to catch his attention. "That honestly sounds more like balance to me."

Jem blinked at the ground. He turned his head to the side, thinking, fighting me. But I could tell something had wormed its way into that thick skull of his. I was tempted to smile.

"I don't want to argue," he said at last.

My shoulders slumped. So much for discussion.

"But…" He clenched a nervous fist. "I admit that… your forgiveness…"

He trailed off, and I was afraid he wouldn't finish. I bit my lip. His fist hung loose at his side, stiff and anxious. On a whim, I reached out and wrapped my fingers around it, feeling warmth rush from my hand to his.

Jem's mouth perked up at the corner. He breathed a gentle laugh. "What did I do to deserve you for a sister?"

"Nothing at all. You don't earn good things; they're given to you, free of charge."

He looked up. "You're not talking about yourself, are you?"

I shook my head.

"Alright, Sam. I'll… I'll let you forgive me."

"That's all I ask."

His fingers uncurled, and we squeezed each other's hands. I held on as long as I could as he walked out onto my balcony and eyed the distance to his own. Then he pulled away and reached for his grappling hook – the normal ninja kind, not like Batman's mechanical ones.

"I should be back soon," he said. "I promise to come see you as soon as I can."

"I'll be waiting for you. It's going to be heck without a sparring partner."

"I know. Talia's a beast." He chucked his hook into the air; it caught with a click on his balcony. "Don't tell her I said that."

"Pinkie swear."

"What?"

I held out my pinkie with a grin. "Pinkie swear. It's a thing, like… like fist bumping. It's supposed to be stronger than a normal promise."

Jem eyed my wiggling finger. "And… what do I do?"

"Link yours in mine."

He shrugged and reached out his pinkie. We linked.

"There. No take-backs."

Jem shook his head and started climbing. "When I get back, I'll have to pick your brain for more ridiculous American customs. They're boundlessly amusing."

"Have a good trip!"

"I'll try."

I watched until he vanished over the rail. I turned back to my room, beaming. Those normal moments were what I lived for; they made my brother seem more human.

He was probably going to kill somebody on that mission.

My smile died a horrible, bloody death. That thought should not have been anywhere near the front of my mind. With a bitter scowl, I stormed back into my room to get ready for training. Maybe punching things would clear my mind.


	4. Chapter 4: Fishing for Compliments

**Chapter 4 - Fishing for Compliments**

For a week, my routine went back to early mornings, long trips blindfolded, and a lot of physical testing – no chip, no powers. But even in such a short span of time, I could see myself improving. I was learning faster now, even without the chip; and by the time Jem got back, I was feeling more confident. I was able to beat any ninja thrown my way; Talia beat me less and less, and the hope of escape kept my spirits high.

Then Jem returned. I was getting ready for training one morning, and he just swooped into the room, lifted me by my waist, and spun me around in the air. He was laughing; I hadn't heard his real, proper laugh in a long time.

"I missed you!" he cried, setting me back down. "How have you been?"

"I've been good," I said, panting a little from the surprise. "How about you?"

"Great." He glanced at my clothes. "Ready for training? Now that I'm back, we can start sparring again."

"Not quite."

I turned to find Talia in the door. She nodded to Jem. "I'm glad you're back. But I've made a change in our schedule. There are five trainees who have finally graduated to group level, and I'd like you to spend some of your time working with them. Not to mention, Miss Samantha still has room to improve."

Jem stuck out his lip at me. "Pity. I was looking forward to beating you."

"Same."

"You'll get your chance," said Talia. "I'll have you two spar on and off. But for today, Jeremiah, you're going to be a group trainer. Good?"

"Yes, Talia."

"Good."

Talia left, shutting the door behind her. I sighed.

"Guess we're going to have to cut the reunion short. You have work to do."

"I don't mind. Group training is actually rather fun. If you're down in the training room today, you'll see."

Jem gave me a quick wink and trotted out my door. My lips lingered on a fond smile, until I realized I hadn't tied up my hair and would be late. I rushed to the bathroom to finish up.

/

From then on, life fell into a steady pattern. For three days, Jem would work as a group trainer; that really was incredible to watch. He sparred with all five of the new ninjas at once, turning constantly from one opponent to the next. I think it was supposed to be a team-building exercise, but Jem beat them nearly every time. Watching him was like trying to keep your eyes on one blade of a spinning fan.

While he was doing that, Talia and I would continue to work on my solo training. I spent more days just lifting weights and running laps in the training room; but I knew why. Every so often, I would notice Ra's standing by the door, watching me closely. I did my best to look trustworthy; he was the axis around which my plan revolved.

Then, for the next three days, Jem and I would spar, giving everything we had, tiring out our bodies, sometimes ending in a stalemate, typically ending with Jem as the victor. Those days were actually my favorite; however physically fatigued I got, my heart and mind soared whenever we were locked in combat, twisting and pouncing and tumbling like wildcats, getting closer and closer to each other in strength and agility. After every match, Jem would tell me, "You're getting better," or, "You almost got me that time."

And then, one day, the unbelievable happened.

It was, I think, the first of October. And about three hours into our second sparring session of the day, I caught an opening. Jem made the mistake of shifting his foot just a half-centimeter too far to the left, which gave me the chance to slip close to the floor, hook a foot around his ankle, and get him off balance. Once I'd done that, it was easy just to knock him over and pin him down. He struggled hard, but I had spent three days with Talia learning how to ride a wild mustang. This was nothing.

And at last, I whispered, "Yield."

And Jem, finally, whispered back, "I yield."

I heard the drums stop, then noticed an unfamiliar sound: voices. I turned to see an entire crowd of black-robed ninjas watching Jem and me. A whole crowd that had just watched me beat my brother, after a month of practice and defeat.

"You seem to have attracted an audience," Jem panted.

" _We_ did," I said, beaming.

I released my twin and stood up, feeling like I could take on the world. Talia gave me what might have been a smile, maybe even an approving one.

"Very well done," Talia said. She turned and barked some foreign words at the gaping watchers; the ninjas scattered in the blink of an eye. "Let's go again. Reset."

I looked at Jem, who had finally gotten to his feet. "That felt good."

He laughed and examined the tattered edge of his tunic. "We really went at that one. I don't know how much longer my uniform can take it."

"I'll go easy on it this time. Are you ready to go again?"

"Always."

Talia got us back into our places, and we went at it again. He beat me; but I didn't care. I had won, once. I was capable of beating Jem.

And if I could do that, maybe I had a shot at escaping from the iron grip of Ra's al Ghul.

/

That was one part of my escape plan somewhat completed. Now I just had to get one of the cleverest, most well-connected evil masterminds on the planet to trust me. No big deal.

So, while I was learning how to fight from Talia, I was also studying up on the al Ghul worldview from Jem. He continued to visit me each night; I didn't want those visits to turn sour, for him or for myself, so I let the first couple nights pass with casual chatter and joking.

Then, after about a week, I asked him to tell me more about Ra's al Ghul.

Jem just blinked and stared at the wall for moment. He didn't seem suspicious; just stunned and unprepared.

"Why… do you want to know?" he asked.

I cast about for an answer that didn't scream "escape plan."

"I'm just curious… I want to know more about the man who gave me my powers."

Jem cocked his head. I didn't know what he was thinking – if he suspected, if he was going to answer me at all.

"Well… first of all, Ra's didn't give you your powers; Li did."

"Right, I know. But Ra's is the man with the plan."

He nodded. "Fair enough. I can't say much, not if you want a good night's sleep, but…"

Jem hesitated, then pulled his feet up onto the bed and faced me. He looked at me with careful but intense eyes, as if he were about to tell me the greatest story ever told.

"Nobody really knows who Ra's al Ghul is – who his parents were, how he came into possession of a Lazarus Pit, or why he began his crusade. Some of his followers suspect he was a soldier, possibly a general, and that he saw what happened to the world when human beings overran the planet. He saw the destruction of the earth and the corruption of civilization, and he sided with nature over man."

Hm. So that was his definition of balance – save the planet, lose the people. I tried not to look too disturbed.

"Over time, I think his mission has shifted and morphed, but at its core it remained the same. He searches out the worst of the worst and purges them; he cleanses corruption and rights age-old wrongs. It's sometimes hard to see how things fit into the big picture with him, but he has everything carefully planned. It's why he uses the Pit; he's playing one of the longest games in history."

"He wants to get rid of Batman. Why?"

Jem's face tightened. "I don't want to—"

"I know. I'm going to listen, not argue. Go ahead."

Jem eyed me for a moment; then, he shrugged. "For one thing, he doesn't hold any personal grudge against the Detective. He simply happens to be a part of the ecosystem of the worst cesspool of crime on earth. His vendetta is against Gotham. I've heard Ra's say sometimes that if Batman weren't such a problem, he'd be a good ally."

What a nice segue. "An ally… really?"

I could tell my interest intrigued him. He left soon after, but when he came the next night, I asked again. He was happy to keep talking. Over time, he gave me a decent picture of his master, doing his best to paint him in a good light. I knew some things already from reading files on the Batcomputer, but Jem helped to fill in gaps and make the story more coherent. Sometimes, it felt like I was being inducted into a cult; but I had to keep listening, or the ruse wouldn't work.

I made sure to ask all the important questions, like, "How does he treat his staff? Is he a good master? How much grace does he give people when they mess up?" "How did you get into the League of Assassins? Is there some sort of test? Is there hazing?" "What kind of staff benefits are there?" "Do you get to pick your own weapons?" "Do League members get access to the computer?" I was genuinely curious about that last one. I really wanted to see that computer.

The final part of the plan relied entirely on Jem reporting my curiosity to his boss. I couldn't be sure of anything straight away. But after a couple weeks, Ra's summoned me to his office. I couldn't help smiling as I stood outside his door with Talia. My plan was working.

When I went in, Ra's eyed me cautiously. He stood up and leaned on the desk.

"Your brother tells me that you've been asking questions."

I feigned surprise. "He told you?"

"He's a loyal soldier," Ra's said, smiling courteously. I held back a grimace. His eyes crinkled when he smiled, not unlike Alfred's.

"I am a little worried, though," Ra's said, stepping around the desk. He came and stood over me, his hands folded behind his back. "I'm worried that your interest comes from… undesirable purposes."

I gulped. I had hoped this meeting would go more, "Oh, Sam, you want to join me in my quest to rid the world of imbalance? Sure thing, let me file some paperwork and give you a katana!" But he was smarter than that. If I moved too fast, he'd sniff out my true intent.

So I said, "What sort of purposes, sir?"

Ra's raised one eyebrow. "The kind that might topple the carefully-laid plans I have for this world."

I cocked my head and squared my shoulders. "Sir, what reason would I have to upset a balanced universe?"

Ra's' mouth twitched. "Do you expect me to believe that your curiosity is honest, and you carry no ill intent?"

Don't go too fast, Sam. "I may not be interested in killing people, but anyone with an ounce of humanity will want what's best for the world."

Ra's seemed to be thinking. I hoped I wasn't overdoing it. I was trying my best to find the middle ground - don't voice my true thoughts, but don't grand jeté straight over to his side, either.

Finally, Ra's returned to his desk. "If you want what's best for the world, find imbalance and right it. Nothing can stand in the way of righteous anger."

"Yes, sir."

"I believe you have training to do, Samantha. You are dismissed."

"Thank you, sir." For good measure, I gave him a respectful nod and walked out the door.

That went well.

I could beat Jem in combat; that was stage one. Ra's was interested; the bait was set, and he was eyeing it. That meant I had achieved stage two.

With luck, I'd be home before Halloween.

/

Three days later, I was called in to meet with Ra's al Ghul once more. And this time, when I walked into his office, I wasn't met with cautious stiffness. No, Ra's almost seemed _pleased_.

"Sit down," he said cordially, indicating a cushioned seat in front of his desk.

I took my seat slowly, studying him. Was I in trouble? Did I have to pull out the _via media_ card again? Or… was he starting to come around? Was I about to get some good results?

"I'd like you to know, Samantha," he said over his folded hands. "I've been marking your progress. You have shown an incredible prowess in the field of combat. I'm very pleased."

I didn't have to fake a flattered smile. "Really?"

"Yes, quite pleased. Now, before you ask, I will tell you that no, I am still not fully prepared to trust you."

My smile faded into disappointment. "Oh."

"However…" Ra's pondered for a second. "However, I have noted once more the level of investment you have shown in me and my plans. Jeremiah tells me you've been asking some very pointed questions. One, I recall, being what Jeremiah does to get into and remain in my good graces."

I gulped. That had been one of my most daring questions yet. "Sir, I hope you understand, I meant no offense…"

"On the contrary," Ra's said. "I admire your boldness. I am curious, what answer did he give you?"

I gave a nervous laugh. "Just… something about… respect, I think. Respecting your authority."

Ra's nodded. "A wise answer. Now, when you first arrived here, Samantha, I knew you would not trust me. And you proved me correct. But I can sense a change in you."

He leaned forward, watching me closely. "How do you feel about me now, Miss Meyers?"

I gave myself a moment to think. I had to play this just right. What could I say to Ra's al Ghul that would convince him? Something partially true, or he would never believe me. Something heartfelt and honest.

"I… am grateful to you for saving my life. I can respect your power and knowledge. And… I can trust you to want what's best for the world."

Ra's blinked twice, slowly, thinking. I sat perfectly still, like a mouse under the gaze of a wild cat.

But at last, he smiled. "Trust is a two-way relationship. If you can trust me, then perhaps, one day, Samantha… I will trust you."

I smiled back. "Thank you, sir."

"Very good. Back to training, my dear. Keep up the good work."

I couldn't stop smiling as I left. It was all I could do to keep it down to a reasonably placid expression in front of Talia. I was too excited.

Ra's had taken the bait. It was time to start reeling.

/

I didn't expect to reel him in so fast.

It was only a week later that he called Jem and me to his office – with a mission. I stood next to Jem like a soldier, straight-backed, tense as a bowstring as I tried not to seem too pleased.

"The two of you are the best fighters I have at the moment," Ra's said, pacing behind his desk. "Half of my assassins are busy, and the other half don't have what I need. I need a _team_ – two proficient individuals who will work well together with no qualifiers."

Ra's pointed to us. "I haven't any other options. You two will have to do it."

Jem gave a stiff bow. "What are your orders, sir?"

Ra's looked at me. "Samantha? Can I trust you?"

I took a deep breath. This was it.

"Yes, sir."

"Prove it," Ra's said emphatically.

He raised his hand, and a holoscreen opened up in front of us. On the screen appeared the face of a woman, her hair carefully styled, wearing an expensive suit. A dignitary.

"The peace between the neighboring countries of Bhandar-Nandia and Uqmahl has become tenuous, at best. The Uqmahli president is ready to pass a law that will allow non-terrestrials, metahumans, and other superhuman beings the right to citizenship. However, Bhandar-Nandia's royal family is vehemently against granting superhumans the same rights as ordinary humans."

"So what's the issue?" I said. "The superhumans just stay in Uqmahl and don't cross the border. Simple."

"Not simple, I'm afraid," Ra's said, giving me a look that clearly said it wasn't my turn to talk. "Bhandar-Nandia is home to one of the greatest underground extraterrestrial communities in the world. The border is guarded heavily and meticulously, with scanners and sensors to ensure that anyone with superhuman attributes will be caught. Bhandar-Nandia fears that, if Uqmahl passes this law, the whole superhuman community will make their move and try to take down the border patrol. As it stands, the citizens of Bhandar-Nandia are paying heavy taxes to keep the border patrol funded. Should the border fail…"

Jem nodded. "The people would lose more money and probably revolt."

"Precisely. And unfortunately, Bhandar-Nandia borders on several smaller, rather unstable countries that are supported by the royal family. Should they fall, the smaller countries would destabilize to the point of collapse."

"Ensuing in a massive power vacuum and a sudden economic depression. And probably a brand-new black market hotspot."

"The Gotham of the Middle East, if you will."

I blew out my breath. "Okay, so… what do we do?"

Ra's fixed me with an intense stare. "You kill the Uqmahli president. I will personally back the next candidate; that way, when the Bhandarian underground does inevitably revolt, I will be in a position to keep things under control."

A decent plan. But why couldn't Jem do it on his own? While I was deciding whether or not to voice my question, Ra's came around his desk and loomed over me. I realized he had something to say – something just for me.

"This mission is meant to kill two birds with one stone. You want to prove your loyalty, my dear; this is your chance. Your brother may have more training and field experience, but on this mission, I want you to finish it.

"You are to kill the president; no one else. Are we clear?"

I did my best not to look sick. I thought quickly; how to respond? How to assure Ra's that I was on his side, one hundred percent?

"When do we leave?"

Ra's nodded, pleased. "You leave now."

/

I stood beside my brother on a rooftop in the cool night air. My face was covered by a thick scarf to mask my identity.

In the last few hours, I had been rushed into a uniform, given a katana, and forced blindfolded onto a plane. By the time we landed, I had no idea where I was. But Jem was there, and he seemed confident. I tried to mimic his posture, follow his pattern of speech, so I would feel less terrified.

My first ever field mission. And I was going to kill someone.

My plan, of course, had been to try to escape today. It made sense; I could beat Jem now, and if I did things properly, I might be able to get out of Ra's' reach with enough time to hide and think of my next move.

But I also had this sinking feeling that today wasn't the day. Watching my brother, I could tell he was full to bursting with energy; he was strong, able, and ready. I, on the other hand, was terrified and just barely keeping myself from shaking like a leaf. Now would be the perfect time to take him down, before there were security cameras trained on my every move, while I had a clear shot to any open window I could find. But something just felt wrong.

So there I stood on a rooftop, staring down at the Uqmahli president as she signed documents in her office. I never understood government, or what people in seats of power did with their time. But whatever the president was doing, she looked tired. I felt sorry for her. My chest twinged with guilt; why wasn't I trying to save this poor, innocent woman? But I couldn't do anything, not without blowing my cover _and_ jeopardizing my chances at escape in one blow.

"Okay," Jem said from under his scarf. "There are fifteen security guards between us and her. Three on the floor right above us, three across, three below. They all have guns, so the moment we move, they'll be shooting at us. There are six more surrounding the president's office, including two on either side of that window."

"How can you tell?"

Jem looked at me, and I saw for the first time that his pupils were contracted. Of course. I'd seen that before. It's what happened when he was using his…

Oh.

I finally realized what was wrong. I could only beat my brother when I had my powers. And there was no music here. Not a drummer in sight.

I wasn't going to escape today.

My brother was still talking. He said he was going to go first and draw the shooters' fire, since he had his chip on, etc. And I was supposed to jump them while they were distracted. Then I would meet him outside the president's office and we'd take her down together. Simple plan. Simple mission.

None of it mattered. I wasn't going to escape today. I had been anticipating escape ever since Ra's summoned me for mission briefing. I thought today was the day. And now I was stuck on this mission. I had to follow through, or risk losing Ra's' trust.

I wasn't going to go home. I wasn't going to see Alfred…

No. Snap out of it. I had to focus. Somehow, I had to get through this mission without killing anybody. How could I, though? If I wanted Ra's' trust… no. I couldn't do it. I'd make sure Jem had to do the actual killing. And cover it up to look like I did it, so Ra's will trust me… but how could I just stand by and let him kill that poor, tired-looking woman, though?

Bruce could find a way out. Batman could do it.

Bruce isn't here. Find another way.

"On my mark."

I looked up. Jem was about to go. It was time. I had run out of time.

"Three."

How could I save the president and still please Ra's?

"Two."

Save president… please Ra's…

"One…"

Save… please… save me please…

"Now."

Jem took a flying leap off the edge of the building. Instantly, I heard the rat-a-tat-tat of machine guns, saw the flash, watched as my brother soared down toward the window below the president's through a rain of bullets.

It was my turn.

Okay. Think of it as saving your brother. I leapt off the building, grabbed hold of a window ledge, then jumped down through the window below it. I kicked the first gunman in the chest. He didn't stop shooting. I dodged the stream of bullets and fly-kicked the gun from his hands. His two buddies turned their firearms on me, but I was fast, even without powers. I dashed past, right between them, so they had to stop firing or risk hitting each other. One stopped.

One shot his friend in the arm.

I tried not to think. The shot man fell to the floor, clutching his arm. He would live. Hopefully. I quickly wrenched the gun from the shooters hand and punched him in the face. He was out cold.

I couldn't hesitate or show pity. If there were cameras, Ra's had them hacked. He was probably watching me right now. This was a test. I knew it was. I had to keep going.

There was a flight of stairs nearby. I raced down to the next level and took out the gunmen there, easy. Then the next level. Gunmen, easy.

The next level down was the president's office.

I found Jem already at the door. He motioned for me to hurry up. On either side of him lay a security guard. They looked like they were breathing. Good.

I took my place at Jem's side. We shared a look; then, as one, we kicked in the double doors.

The president was already on her feet, staring out the window. She jumped and whirled around as we barged in. I took one look at her wild, frightened, defiant eyes and knew I couldn't kill her.

I saw the two guards at the window. And I heard the two guards that were hiding behind the doors. Jem and I turned and each took out a guard. Five seconds, tops.

Then we were facing the president. Her hands shook as she opened a drawer in her desk and pulled out a gun. She yelled something at us in a foreign language as she took aim.

Jem moved like lightning. He surged forward, dodged her first bullet, then ran around behind her and took out one of the remaining guards. I followed on his tail, going around the president's back to knock out the last gunman.

There was no time left. I had to think of something, or the president would be dead.

Jem had already turned around. He grabbed the president around the neck, forcing her to bend back over her desk.

"Do it," Jem said, glancing at me.

My hand rose to the hilt of my katana.

"You are…" the president panted in accented English. "You are American, yes?"

My hand started shaking. I wrapped my fingers around the hilt. Stop shaking.

"You want to kill me. You want aliens to not have the same rights as ordinary people. Like us. Is this true?"

"Now," Jem said, a little snappishly.

I slid the katana out a little. This was my chance to get Ra's al Ghul's trust. I just had to perform it right. Maybe, I could make it look like I killed her, without actually killing her… I unsheathed my katana.

"Let me convince you," the president said breathlessly. "Aliens are not so different. Metahumans are not different. They have minds. They have souls! We cannot ignore them. They are a part of us now!"

That was when I noticed that Jem's hands were shaking. His chip was on, right? He should be in complete control of himself. Why would he be shaking, as if he were… scared?

I didn't see any of it coming. But all in a blur, I heard a gunshot. I heard Jem scream; then I felt the katana leave my hand and heard another scream. I ducked as the gun went off again, then made my move. Five seconds; the gunman was out.

Then I turned around to see what had happened.

The president was slumped backward on the desk, pinned through the chest by my katana. Jem lay on the floor at her feet, curled around his stomach.

"Jem!" I ran to him, instantly processing what might have happened. One look told me he had been shot. I raised my hands to pull off my scarf.

"No," Jem gasped, grabbing my arm. "Don't. Stay hidden."

"You're hurt, you need to…"

"The president," Jem said urgently.

"You—"

"Sam, is she dead?!"

I got up and went to the president. I almost couldn't look. Her glassy eyes lay half open, her hair fanned out, dynamic in its stillness… no. Don't focus on the person. Focus on the task. The mission. I touched my fingers to her throat, but I knew it was too late. I blinked slowly, taking a resigned, calming breath. Then I pulled the katana out.

"She's dead," I said firmly. If Ra's was watching, I wanted him to know. He had gotten what he wanted. And he had gotten my brother shot.

I knelt beside Jem again. "Now let me…"

"No. Not yours. Take my scarf."

"Your identity…"

"Doesn't need protecting." Jem gave me a pained smile. "I've been dead to the world for twelve years."

I quickly pulled the scarf off his head and used it to bind his wound. I sat back, winded, exhausted, terrified.

"What now?"

Jem put one of his hands on my knee, getting blood on my trousers. "Get back to Ra's. I'll be fine."

"Yeah, like I'm ever going to leave you like this."

"Sam… Samantha."

I looked up in time to see his pupils dilate. Instantly, his face scrunched up and his breathing became more labored.

"Hey, hey," I said, rushing to calm him. "Don't turn it off if it helps."

"I need… to pass out. Can't with it on… it just… gives… bad dreams."

His eyes rolled back into his head, and he went limp. I grabbed onto him, hugging him to my chest. I took long, deep breaths to calm myself.

"You'll be okay," I whispered. "You'll be okay. You'll be okay."

After what felt like forever, I heard a faint noise. I turned around to see that a whole squad of ninjas had entered the room. They said nothing. They made no noise. They just rushed over, helped me to lift Jem, and carried him out of the room.

One ninja stayed behind with me. To my surprise, she took off her headscarf, shaking out long brown hair, and turned to me.

"Talia," I gasped.

"My father sent me to keep an eye on you," Talia said. "Come. We must return to the plane."

I followed Talia up the stairs to the roof of the building, where a light aircraft was landed. I saw the other ninjas strapping Jem to a bed inside the body of the plane.

"Just a medical craft," Talia said. "But it had cloaking abilities, which allowed me to watch over you from a distance."

"So you were here the whole time?"

"I was."

"You saw… everything, and didn't stop it? Didn't stop Jem from getting _shot_?!"

"Unfortunately, I didn't see everything. The video feed was unclear."

I wasn't satisfied with her answer, but there was nothing I could do. Talia rushed me onto the plane, and we took off. She didn't blindfold me, but I couldn't see out of the plane, anyway. Ninjas had blocked both of the small windows. So I occupied myself with my brother. They had hooked him up to monitors and IV's, and he seemed to be stable. I just held his hand and whispered things to him.

A few minutes into the flight, I noticed his eyelids fluttering. The moment I looked, they snapped closed. But I knew they had been open. Why was he pretending to be asleep?

Then I saw him mouth, "Sam."

He wanted to talk.

I put my face close to his. I could hardly hear him, he spoke so softly. But I caught enough.

"Tell him… you did it. Take credit. The kill was yours."

I started to shake my head, but he whispered, more forcefully. "You did it. Killed… he'll trust you now."

I blinked as his meaning started to come through. He wanted me to take credit for the kill… so Ra's would trust me. But I knew I hadn't done it. And if Ra's had been watching…

No… wait. He _hadn't_. Talia said the video had been unclear. Which meant maybe they didn't see which one of us had actually stabbed the president.

I could take the credit.

I realized that this was the opportunity I needed. Jem had given me the chance to gain Ra's al Ghul's trust. And it seemed he had planned it that way. Jem wanted Ra's to trust me – and he didn't want me to kill. Again, why?

I took my seat again, carefully arranging my face. Talia was on board; she couldn't suspect deceit. But the whole ride, I was silently rejoicing. I was one step closer to breaking free of Ra's al Ghul's control.

Thank you, Jeremiah.

A few minutes later, I was rushing down the hallways of Ra's' palace toward the main office, Talia on my tail. I burst through the doors, feeling fierce and frightening.

"I hope you're happy," I said evenly.

Talia grabbed my arm. "Mind your tone-"

"Let her speak," Ra's said, setting the book he had been reading on his desk.

Talia loosened her grip; I jerked away and turned to Ra's. "The mission was a success. The president is dead."

"Good," Ra's said, one eyebrow raised in amusement. "And?"

"My brother was shot."

"That is always a risk," Ra's said, sitting down calmly. "I assume he sacrificed himself for you?"

"He did. But at least he didn't sacrifice himself for nothing." I drew myself up to my full height. "I killed the president."

Ra's stared at me for a moment, searching my face for the lie. I didn't blink. Actually, I felt powerful. My anger was fueling my actions; I could say anything and make it believable.

Ra's narrowed his eyes. "Let's make certain, shall we?"

I watched as he opened a holoscreen and pulled up the video footage of our mission. The video was a bit blurry, but I could make out Jem grabbing the president, and the last gunman stepping out of his hiding spot to take aim. I should have seen him sooner.

I watched as I unsheathed my katana. I could only just make out the sound of Jem's and the president's voices. Then I heard the gunshot, and the video blurred even worse. All I saw was someone in dark clothes stab the president. Then the video resolved, and I was running to Jem; the gunman was down, and the president was dead. I watched myself get up, proclaim that the job was done, and retrieve my katana.

Ra's sat back slowly. I watched his face, waiting for his verdict. The silence seemed to stretch on forever. But at last, Ra's nodded.

"Well done, Samantha. You have completed your first mission."

I gave him a shallow bow. "Thank you, sir."

"How did it feel?"

I thought for a second. "It felt… good. I haven't been out in so long – and to get a mission that needed such speed, it was…"

"Not the mission." Ra's leaned forward. "The kill."

I took a deep breath. I had to make something up. How would an assassin-to-be describe their first kill?

"Simple," I said. "Precise. Final."

Ra's smiled at me, looking more pleased than ever. "You have done very well, Miss Meyers. I believe you will be of some great use to me. You are dismissed to your quarters."

"Thank you, sir." I bowed again, a little deeper this time. It was worth playing it up a little. Ra's was pleased with me. That was a step away from trust.

Talia led me out of the office and back to my room. I asked if I could see Jem, but she told me I had to wait until I was called for. So I sat alone in my room and thought.

The mission had been a success. Jem was hospitalized, so my training regimen was likely to change for a while. But other than that, life would probably go on as normal. Ra's had no reason to send me out on a mission alone; he surely didn't trust me completely at this point, and I wasn't much of a powerhouse without access to my chip.

So I would keep training, keep playing the part, keep weaseling my way into Ra's' good graces. Maybe, soon, he would give me computer access and I could test my theory about different kinds of music. Maybe he would one day let me know where this place was. And maybe, just maybe, he would eventually be foolish enough to send me out on a mission with my powers.

All I had to do was keep acting. I just had to keep going, just a little longer. I was almost there.

/

A couple days later, I was allowed to go see Jem. It was strange to see him in a hospital bed, hooked up to monitors and such. I had only ever seen him up and active. Still, he smiled as energetically as ever.

"Hey, Sam," he said, his voice tired.

I glanced at the lone ninja sitting by the door. He was relaxed and casual, but still obviously, pointedly present. If Jem and I were going to talk about what had happened, he had to go.

"You," I said, loudly, forcefully, summoning every ounce of authority in my body. "Leave us."

The ninja nodded and slipped out the door.

Smiling a little at my triumph, I turned back to my brother. He raised his eyebrows.

"That was almost Talia-like."

"I've had plenty of time to observe her," I said, pulling a chair to his bedside. "How are you?"

"I'm not going to die."

"Good. You better not." I leaned my elbows on the bed. "So. What did you do?"

Jem shook his head. "You know what I did. I made it look like you killed her."

"But how? I mean, it all went so fast, I hardly noticed what happened."

Jem kept his voice low. "My mind goes a lot faster when my chip is on. I triggered it on the way there, so I could think out a plan. But when I did, I started thinking about… you. I started wondering what you were going to do. Because, if I know anything about you, it's that you're not a killer."

I lowered my voice. "It's that obvious?"

"To me, with the chip, at least, yes. I doubt Ra's cares what your true nature is so long as you can set it aside while working for him. But I knew that you'd never follow through if it was on your shoulders to do the deed. And I realized that, if Ra's couldn't trust you to finish a job, he would never trust you at all. And I want to keep working with you. I want you to have the freedom to work with me. So I decided to help you gain his trust."

I glanced up at him. "So… it wasn't to save me?"

Jem ignored the question. "I took out one of the hallway cameras, by 'accident,' of course, and hooked the other up to a small, half-powered EMP emitter. I kept the controller in my hand, pressing it every so often to keep the feed unclear. Then, when the time came for you to 'kill' the president, I set it off on full power and tried to position everything so it looked like you did the killing instead of me. You did everything you were supposed to - taking out the blade yourself, saying out loud that she was dead."

"But what about that last gunman? You didn't know he was there, how…?"

"Oh, no, I did." He winced, touching his side. "I let myself get shot, so I would be even less likely to have done it."

"You let yourself get _shot_ so Ra's would trust me?"

"Anything for my little sister."

"Twins," I said absently. "So then… you knew you were going to get hurt. You purposefully told me the wrong number of guards."

"Yes."

I glanced up. "And you didn't do it to save me from having to kill."

Jem was silent. He stared up at the ceiling, then glanced at the door.

"Sam… if I had left it up to you… would you have done it?"

I shaded my mouth behind my hand. "I don't think so, no."

Jem closed his eyes. "I thought not."

"So… what?"

"So maybe… maybe I did. Do it for you. A little bit."

I smiled. "Oh." I slipped my hand into his. "Well, then, thank you."

He nodded. "Of course."

We sat in silence until there was a knock on the door, and Talia looked in to call me to training. I stood, still clinging to his hand.

"I'll come visit when I can. Get better quickly, alright?"

"Alright."

"Good. See you soon."

I let go and followed Talia out. The ninja I had dismissed was standing just on the other side of the wall, passive, silent, inexpressive. I wondered if he had heard anything - hoped he hadn't. I was too close to gaining Ra's' trust to lose it all to a snitch.

Not that worry or doubt could bring me down now. My heart grew lighter with each step I took. I could barely keep a grin off my face. Jem had protected me from killing. That meant he wasn't a heartless, murdering assassin after all. He seemed to want the best for me, even if that meant lying to his master. I could hope for my brother. I could _hope_. It felt good to hope, like clean rain washing away the murky anxiety that had buried me for so long.

And if he was on my side, maybe I wouldn't have to fight him to escape. Maybe… he would help me all on his own.


	5. Interlude

**Interlude**

"Almost… there!"

The Batmobile came to life, like a cat waking up from a long nap. Dick fondly patted the dash and hopped out of the front seat.

"All good, Jason," he said.

Jason mopped his brow and closed the hood of the car. "Finally. I thought she might be dead for good this time."

"She?"

Dick glanced up to see Damian dangling from the pull-up bar. The boy swung around, leapt into the air, and landed with a flourish.

"It's not a person, a pet, and certainly not a ship, Todd," Damian said. "It's a machine."

" _She_ is a highly sophisticated vehicle fashioned with just as much love and care as any creaky old ship and deserves to be thought of as a member of the family," Dick said. He patted the Batmobile's hood. "Don't listen to him, baby, you're beautiful and I love you."

"You worry me sometimes, Grayson."

Bruce walked over, still in his Batsuit. "How's she coming?"

Damian rolled his eyes and returned to the bar.

"She's all ready to go," Jason said, waving a grand gesture.

"Thanks, boys," Bruce said. "I've been too occupied chasing down the Fright Brigade to deal with repairs."

"They should consider renaming," Damian said. "Nobody's frightened of them."

"The Turn-and-Flight Brigade," Dick suggested.

Jason laughed. "Maybe the Not-So-Bright Brigade."

Dick grinned, another name ready on his tongue. Then he glanced past Bruce, and his face fell. Bruce caught the look and turned around. He sighed.

Alfred hadn't been the same since Sam went missing. He never quipped or joked; he rarely remembered to tell them off for being reckless or foolish. He worked silently and wore a grim expression at all times. Dick did his best to lighten the mood, but the moment Alfred walked into a room, the atmosphere chilled like it had been iced by Doctor Freeze.

Alfred wandered over with a tray of sandwiches. Dick eyed them suspiciously. Alfred's cooking had been sub-par lately, too. They looked edible enough.

"Thanks, Al," Jason said, keeping how voice low as he took a couple sandwiches.

"Yeah, thanks," Dick said, giving Alfred a sympathetic smile. "Don't know what we'd do without you."

"We'd be a regular mess." Bruce clapped a hand on his butler's shoulder and took several sandwiches. "Thank you, Alfred."

Alfred paused, closed his eyes, and sighed. "Sir, I am not in mourning. I do not need to be _coddled_."

"Then for heaven's sake, cheer up, Pennyworth," Damian called from his perch. "Like you said, it's not as if she's dead."

There was a tense silence. Bruce shot a look of pure rage at his son.

"Damian. Room. Now."

Damian jumped to the floor. "I didn't…"

" _Room._ You're pushing no dinner, young man. Now go."

Damian scowled and ran for the stairs, giving Alfred a single apologetic glance.

Bruce sighed. "Sorry, Alf-"

"Master Bruce, that's quite enough!" Alfred slammed the tray onto the hood of the Batmobile; Dick winced. "You've been _coddling_ me - no, you have been - ever since… and I'm through with it. It's time for you to let me be."

He stormed out of the cave, leaving a pained silence in his wake. Dick pinched the bridge of his nose. He was sick and tired of all this drama. If they didn't find Sam soon…

"Bruce?"

Tim's face was glued to the computer, his fingers rattling over the keyboard. "Bruce, there's something you should see."

Dick followed his adoptive father to the computer and hung over the back of Tim's chair. He blinked at the screen, where Tim had pulled up a recent news article. Very recent. Yesterday, actually.

"The president of Uqmahl has been assassinated," Tim said. His fingers flew over the keys. "Research says security cameras got no footage; but there was one gunman who caught a glimpse of the intruders."

"Ninjas," Bruce said. "Ra's?"

"Possibly."

"This could work. See if you can get into the cameras."

"Uqmahl presidential office. That would be the State Building, fourth floor. Schematics have five cameras inside and outside the office. I… hold up."

"What?"

"Something's running interference. There's a couple secure firewalls that shouldn't be there."

"You can still get in."

"Yeah, yeah, give me a sec… got 'em."

Footage appeared of a dark hallway and various angles on a large office. Dick saw a woman sitting at the desk, absorbed in her work.

"Is that the president?" he asked. "She looks…"

"Cute," Jason said.

"Dude, come on. She's _dead_ now. Have some respect."

Jason shrugged, but his cheeks were noticeably redder. "Sorry. I say what comes to mind."

"Assassination time was twenty-one hours, seventeen minutes." Tim skipped forward. "Here we go."

Outside the president's office, someone was battling a couple guards. It had to be one of the ninjas that guard described. They wore loose black clothes and a headscarf, and they moved with incredible precision and speed.

"That kind of movement is humanly impossible," Bruce noted.

"So, superhuman," Tim said. "Actually… it almost looks familiar. Do you think it's anyone we know?"

"Check the database on the side."

"On it…"

The lone ninja grabbed one of the guard's guns, but they didn't stop it from shooting out one of the cameras. Tim squinted and rewound the video, played it again, rewound, and played it a third time.

"That… is it just me, or did that look deliberate?"

"I don't see anything," Jason said. Dick shrugged.

"Probably thought someone was spying on him," Bruce said.

"Yeah, but… he hasn't taken out the other camera."

The second hallway cam lost sight of the ninja for a second. When he reappeared, someone else showed up at the end of the hall. They met up, took a moment to prepare, then burst through the doors into the president's office.

The video feed suddenly started to flicker. Tim pressed some buttons, but the feed didn't change.

"That blurring… it's not us," he muttered. "Why is it going out?"

The feed came back, in time to see the two ninjas take out the guards standing behind the president. Dick pointed.

"I think that other one is a girl. See? Different movement style."

"Why is that relevant?" Jason asked.

"Well, it… I dunno, I was just thinking of…"

"If Ra's still has Sam, she's going to be locked up in a dungeon somewhere. That's not her."

Dick frowned. "I didn't say it was."

"It's cutting out again," Tim said. "Why is it cutting out?"

Suddenly, there was the noise of a gunshot. The feed garbled the worst it had so far; all they could make out was one of the ninjas stabbing the president with a katana. When the video cleared, one ninja was kneeling over the body of the other.

"Is he dead?" Bruce asked.

"No. See? He moved."

A few minutes passed; then, out of the shadows, a whole crew of ninjas appeared to take away their fallen comrade. The female ninja was joined by another, who took off her mask and shook out her hair dramatically. Bruce stiffened.

"It's Talia."

"So it was Ra's," Tim said. "I wonder how they got to Uqmahl. I could trace them."

"Try it."

Tim hooked up to the outdoor cameras. As he did, Dick felt a rising sense of hope. They had been searching for Samantha for months now. Maybe they had finally caught a lead. If Tim could find something to hack and track, and follow it to wherever Ra's was hiding…

But when the cameras came up, not a single feed showed a mode of transport. Not an airship, a vehicle, a portal, anything.

Bruce's shoulders slumped. "Of course they'd stay out of camera range."

"Possibly cloaking, too," Tim said apologetically. "I'm sorry. I can't…"

"Don't worry about it," Bruce said. "We'll find some other way."

Dick sighed and patted his brother on the shoulder. "Nice try, though."

Tim nodded, his face just as disappointed as every else's. After a momentary pause, his fingers picked up and started flying again, searching words like "ninja," "assassin," "vanish," "missing." Dick couldn't follow the speed at which Tim worked; with a weary shrug, he turned away.

No Sam today.

Dick decided it would be good to get some rest before tonight's patrol. He left the cave and trudged up to his room, passing a stone-faced Alfred, who looked like he was using the vacuum more as a walker than a cleaning tool. Dick's frown deepened.

He was about to walk into his room and flop down on the bed, when his ear caught something unusual - a sound coming from Damian's room. Dick hesitated, then pushed Damian's door open.

Damian had his face smooshed into his pillow. That's why the sound had been unusual. He seemed to be talking to himself, but Dick couldn't make out a word.

"You okay, kiddo?"

Damian jumped and scrambled into a sitting position, his back to the door. "It's none of your business."

"You know me," Dick said, walking into the room. "I can never resist poking my nose into places I shouldn't."

"Well, _learn_."

"Damian, we'll find Samantha…"

"I know," Damian grumbled, hunching up his shoulders.

Dick slowly moved around the bed, trying to keep his voice light. "And you know that Bruce only snaps at you because…"

"Because I say too much, and then I hurt people's feelings."

"Well…" That was true. But that was beside the point. "Bruce just feels tense, that's all. We're all pretty off since…"

Damian finally turned to face his brother. Dick blinked in surprise. Even though Damian's face was twisted into a fierce scowl, there were tear tracks running down his cheeks.

Dick knew Damian hated to let people see when he was crying. Dick did his best to school his face, then sat on the bed beside his brother.

"I know I let him down," Damian spat. "I know I hurt people sometimes. Some people deserve it. But…" He lowered his gaze in shame. "Alfred doesn't. I shouldn't have said what I did. Father was right to be angry with me."

Dick raised his eyebrows. Then, a smile crept across his face.

"You know, in some ways, Sam's still here."

Damian shot him a curious look.

"You never used to apologize before she came."

Damian snorted. "Shut up, Grayson."

Dick ruffled his brother's hair, and Damian flinched away, but his scowl softened.

"It'll be alright. Bruce and Alfred don't stay mad for long. I'm sure Alfred's already forgiven you."

Damian spoke in a low voice. "I doubt he even noticed."

Dick sighed. After a minute, he patted Damian on the shoulder. "Try to get some rest before patrol, ok? I'm going to take a nap myself."

"Yeah."

Dick waited a moment, and when Damian refused to say anything more, he stood and left, his heart simultaneously lighter and heavier than before.

They _really_ needed their girl back.

Suddenly, Tim burst into the room, slightly breathless.

"Guys… I figured it out!"

"Figured what out?" Dick asked.

"Why that one assassin looked so familiar," Tim gasped. "I got a match out of our database. The way he moved, it was so inhuman, so different… guys, it's Oddjob."

Damian sat up. "Wait. Which means…"

Tim nodded. "Oddjob works for Ra's al Ghul."

"The message," Dick said. "That spelled out her name. That was Oddjob."

"How long has my grandfather known about Samantha?" Damian demanded.

"What I want to know," Tim said, his eyes narrowing, "is _how_ he knows about her. What is she to him?"

Dick nodded. If Ra's knew about her and was interested enough to tell his henchman about her, she must have some importance. But… she was just Samantha. What connection could Ra's possibly have to her?

Dick had wondered earlier if that other assassin could be Samantha. He had let it go as a silly fantasy, but now… he was starting to doubt himself. Could it really be a coincidence that Oddjob himself, the man who had spelled out Samantha's name, the man who worked for Ra's al Ghul, Sam's kidnapper, suddenly showed up with a female sidekick?

"Tim," Dick said slowly, "keep your eyes out for that female ninja Oddjob was working on. She could be important."

Tim met his gaze. He was probably thinking the same thing.

"I'll let you know if she turns up again."

Damian scowled at the floor. "She might have been the one who killed the president."

Dick's heart stopped. "You… we can't say for sure."

"But she might have." Damian turned to his brother. "I know you're thinking about Samantha. But if it was her… just think about what that might mean."

Damian got up and left the room, leaving Dick swarming with dark thoughts. That female ninja… it was probably nothing. It had to be nothing. Ignore the fact that he had distinctly noted the waving dark hair that peeked out from under her headscarf. It wasn't Sam. Sam wouldn't kill. She would _never_.

Right?


	6. Chapter 5: Angel and Demon

**Chapter 5 - Angel and Demon**

My fingers twitched as they dug into my bed sheets. It was surely past midnight by now, but I wasn't tired in the least. By now, I didn't need more than a couple hours' rest a night. However, I wasn't sure I'd be able to manage even that. It was November eighteenth.

A familiar sound – the rush of wind as my brother swung down from his balcony and strode past the delicate curtains. It had been almost a month since he was shot; he had healed well and was back to his usual self. He looked as pleased as he was every other night - pleased to see me, to talk more about his master, to prove himself loyal and zealous. It took everything in me not to get up and smack him across the face. Didn't he know it was November eighteenth?

Jem paused, halfway across the room. "Sam? What's up? You look cross."

I lay back on the bed. "It's November eighteenth."

"Yes, it is… what about it?"

"I sort of hoped you'd know."

"Is it special? It's… not our birthday, that's in May…"

"Two years ago, Jem. Two years ago today… Dad died."

Jem was silent, which was probably a good idea. He had forgotten. I couldn't help feeling upset by his lack of emotion.

"I'm sorry," Jem said finally, as if it was my loss alone. "I can leave, if you want."

I didn't want him to leave. My soul cried out for comfort; I wanted to be held, to be coddled and loved. I wanted some family, a face that was familiar, that looked a little like Dad's. I wanted some reassurance that Dad was here with me, in my heart, watching over me. I wanted some sympathy, a child of the same parents mourning the same loss.

But I couldn't seem to reach out to him. He was my brother; I loved him so, so much. He had sacrificed his body for me; he had saved me from having to kill. Yet there was still something so foreign about him. Like… he was my relative, but not my family.

"Can you remember anything about Dad?" I asked softly.

I glanced at my brother. At first, he seemed confused, almost offended, at the question. But after a moment, his face took on a pondering look. He was taking the time to think. I was surprised. I had expected him to shrug the question off.

Jem sat on the bed next to me. "I can remember… his voice."

"You're bluffing."

"Alright, then, his hands."

I sat up. "Come on, Jem, _I_ hardly have memories from when we were five. Really try. _Think_."

Jem glared at me, but I wasn't going to let him off that easy. Besides, Dad's hands were distinctive – rough, enormous, calloused from lifting barbells, and yet still gentle enough to pluck the strings of a guitar and braid my hair for school. Of course Jem would remember those.

I waited until he had settled into deeper thought, then lay back down. Better not to stare at him. I started to squirm as the silence dragged on; but at last, he took a deep breath and started to talk.

"This may sound ridiculous, but… I remember his hair. It was thick and tangled – not curly, just particularly wavy – and I remember riding on his shoulders and playing with it. Especially out in the sun, when it looked more brown than blonde."

I blinked and smiled. "Yeah…"

Jem stuttered on. "I can… sort of remember other things. Like how it felt when he picked me up. Rushing from below him to above him in seconds… he was tall, wasn't he?"

"Well, he seemed tall, but I think it was an illusion. He got shorter as I grew up."

Jem laughed.

"What else?"

"I think… there's one memory. I forgot about this one. He and I were playing. I don't remember with what, but I put something in my mouth and he took it away and started telling me how I shouldn't do that anymore, and I was five now, and I should know better… and for whatever strange reason, it stuck with me. I remember, after that moment, I didn't put anything in my mouth. Unless it was food, of course. I… I don't know, it sounds stupid…"

"No. No, I love it." I turned my face toward him, staring up at his shoulders. "It's one of those memories you know has to be real, because it's not too nice or too bad, and not too simple. It's got details and color and everything."

"Exactly. Yes."

I couldn't see his face, but he sounded… sad. I tried to think of something else, something to fill the silence.

"Would you like me to tell you more about him?"

Jem just barely nodded his head.

I slipped my hand into his and thought of a story. "A couple years after… that is, when I was seven, Dad took me to see the Milligan Symphony Orchestra; they were playing in a city near Gotham. He told me they were the best orchestra in America. He was biased, of course, but I believed him. I still do. I remember sitting there, half asleep, when some particular swell of the music made Dad sort of shudder and sigh all at once. He looked so content, staring at the stage with wonder in his eyes."

I smiled, just thinking of it. "I had to know what it was about the music that made him so happy, so I sat up and listened closer, and after a while, there it was. I could feel it - this undercurrent of energy, running through the whole auditorium. The music was creating this sort of hum that everyone just _understood_. I think that might be when I fell in love with music."

I chuckled. "I guess that was more of a 'me' story."

"It was good," Jem said quietly.

"Another?"

"Go ahead."

I closed my eyes and let my mind wander from story to story. I told Jem about the time Mom played a prank on Dad, and he was so surprised, he couldn't stop laughing for five minutes. I told him how, when I went to Dad's gigs, he would always say at least one song was for me, and one for Mom. I was halfway through a story about the time Dad broke a guitar string while playing a funny song for me, when I felt Jem's hand shudder in mine. I opened my eyes.

Jem had turned his face toward me, just enough so I could see he was crying. His head was bowed, and his face was peaceful, but I could see fat tears rolling down his cheeks.

"Don't stop," he said, his voice cracking. "Please."

"Well… basically, he got so invested in playing as loudly and as weirdly as possible, that he wore the D string completely out and it broke. With the actual twanging sound, the one that you think only happens in cartoons." I grinned. "And he hurt his finger, too, so he was sucking on it, and looked so confused and dazed… I died laughing, you should have been the-!"

I stopped. The laugh that had been tickling my throat sank down into my stomach. I glanced at my brother, who was crying harder than ever, his brows knitted together.

"Yeah," he said, barely above a whisper. "I should've."

"Jem…"

He quickly wiped his eyes and got up. "Thanks, Sam. I'll… see you tomorrow."

He vanished before I could speak. I stared at the balcony doors, at the thin white curtains blowing in the cool night breeze. The room felt suddenly empty without Jem in it. I realized after a bit that I was finally tired, so I crawled under the blankets and nestled down to sleep, hoping the darkness would save me from the unhappy guilt that gnawed at my gut.

/

Jem was gone when I woke up. Talia said he'd been called away on a mission. My chest clenched when I heard that; he hadn't even come to say goodbye. He could have woken me. Was he mad at me now? Did I say something last night to drive him away? Not the "should've been," hopefully.

I did my training that day with a heavy heart. By mid-afternoon, the anxiety and guilt had eaten such a deep hole through my heart that I started begging Talia for more information. When would he be back? It wasn't a dangerous mission, was it?

Talia said, with luck, in two days. She assured me that there was no reason to worry, as my brother had been handling missions for years and could take care of himself.

So I spent two days in the depths of despair. What if I had hurt him? What if this was the end? It couldn't be the end. I was overreacting. Why did worry feel this awful?

It didn't help that I was slipping. I was so distracted, Talia beat me twice in a row with my chip on. With each blow she landed, my despair worsened. I was getting worse. I would never escape in this state.

/

The day of his projected arrival came. I tried to work through my training exercises, but I was nervous, and unreasonably shaky. I started to get mad at myself, willing my limbs to hold still as they raised another set of weights. I should be better than this. I should not be afraid.

Then, late in the afternoon, I saw a ninja appear at Talia's side. He muttered something from under his headscarf; Talia's face frowned into business mode, and she signaled me to stop.

"Your brother has returned," she said, her voice measured. "I must meet with my father. Continue your trai-"

"No!"

Talia shot me a look of pure affronted rage. I clapped a hand to my mouth, but I was too jittery to stop now.

"I need to see him. Please."

Talia stood silent and rigid for a long, long moment. My heart was pounding; she could run me through right then and there. But at last, she nodded. "Follow me. But you are not to enter my father's study until called."

I dumped the weights back on the rack and rushed after Talia. It took all of my training and control to stop myself from sprinting ahead. We came to the study at last, and Talia signaled for me to stand by the doors. I took my place, bouncing slightly on my toes, as she went in and closed the door.

As soon as she was out of sight, I jumped forward and shoved my ear to the keyhole, listening carefully. I could make out the sound of Talia's voice, and of Ra's'. He sounded… tense.

I closed my eyes and covered my other ear. I had to know what was going on.

"Why did you not follow orders?"

I heard Jem's voice reply. "I'm sorry, sir. It won't happen again."

He was trying his best, but I could hear it – that little quiver in his throat that meant nerves. Jem was afraid. My brow tightened.

"That is not the question. The question is, _why_ did you disobey _direct orders_?!"

I could hear the shift in Jem's posture. His voice sank to a whisper.

"Speak up, Jeremiah."

Jem took a deep breath. "I couldn't… kill him."

My eyes flew open.

"I don't know why," Jem rushed on. "I don't understand what happened to me. I meant to follow through. But as soon as I was in place, as soon as it was time, I… couldn't."

"That is no excuse!" Ra's roared. "The man you were sent to dispose of leads a secret society for men of wealth and power which was formed specifically to counter everything I am trying to create! I trusted you to finish the job. I trusted you to do as I ordered, and here you stand, a failure, pleading innocence because, of all the insufferable things, you just _couldn't_!"

"Sir, I promise, it will never happen again."

"And how can you promise me that, if you do not know how it happened in the first place?"

Jem didn't answer. I heard Ra's give a heavy, frustrated sigh.

"I am loath to dispose of you, Jeremiah. You are my best operative. But if I cannot count on you to do your job, I have no use for you. I will give you another chance, strictly out of the need for your services. Once that chance is gone, you will get no other. Understood?"

"Yes, sir. Thank you. Thank you so much, I promise I will…"

"Get out, boy."

"Yes, sir!"

I heard hurried steps coming and leapt back. Just as I settled into position, Jem burst through the door. His feet carried him three steps; then, he stopped, leaned against the nearest wall, and took a deep breath. He was shaking like a leaf. I took a hesitant step toward him; he heard and whirled on me, his face twisted in terror.

"Sam," Jem gasped, clutching his chest. "How long have… did you hear anything?"

"Not much," I lied.

Jem swallowed hard. "I… I'm sorry. I'm in such a state…" He laughed nervously, looking at his unsteady hands. "Uh… How are you? How have things been while I was gone?"

"Normal."

"Good." Jem glanced at the door. "Listen, Sam…"

Talia burst out into the hallway. Taking no notice of me, she rushed at Jem, slamming him against the wall and pressing her arm against his throat.

"Betray my father again, and he won't have to kill you."

"Yes, Talia," Jem whimpered.

Talia shoved him aside, so that he stumbled and fell to the floor. She pointed to me. "You. Come."

She turned and walked away, not waiting for an answer. I glared at her back; then I walked over and helped my brother to his feet. Jem's hand moved towards the place his bullet wound was.

"Are you alright?" I asked.

"Fine. Just sore." His hand squeezed mine, clinging to it for a moment. Then, he let it go. "You should follow her."

"Come see me," I said pointedly. "Tonight." I gave him one last searching glance, to make sure he was okay. Then I hurried after Talia.

Well. That changed things.

Ra's' trust in my brother was failing. I couldn't use Jem as my crutch anymore. From here on out, any points I scored with the Demon's Head would have to come from me and me alone. I needed to be on my best behavior.

My problems aside, Jem was in hot water with some dangerous people. I didn't want to think about what might happen if he failed to please Ra's again. And if anything mattered more than my freedom, it was my brother's life.

Could I leave if I knew Jem was in danger?

/

Late that night, Jem landed on my balcony. I clutched the bedcovers, wide awake and worried. He shuffled inside, his head bowed. I saw the gleam of his eyes as he glanced up at me.

"So," I said. "What happened?"

Jem flung himself onto the bed. "I froze. I'm not supposed to freeze. I'm an assassin – I'm in the League of Assassins! We don't freeze!"

"Calm down and talk to me, Jem."

He sat up, digging his hands into his hair. "Ra's is never going to trust me again. I've never disobeyed him before. Never!"

"Yes, but _why_?"

"Because if I don't, I forfeit everything he's ever given me."

"No, I mean, why didn't you do it?"

Jem's hands fell away from his face. "What?"

"Why didn't you kill that man?"

Jem squinted. "How do you know?"

"Eavesdropped. That's not important. Tell me, Jem: why?"

Jem paused, breathing heavily as he thought. Then, a haunted look came over his face. "Dad."

"What?"

"It was Dad. I could…" He stared at me with wild eyes. "Look, after the other night, I've felt… different. I never really knew Dad; I never wanted to, but… now, I… I can't stop thinking about him. I lost him. There's… things missing from my life that should've… and won't ever be, because of… Ra's."

I kept silent, listening as my brother finally put everything, everything we had ever talked about and fought over, into place. I was terrified for him, but this… I couldn't help but feel a sense of awe. This was _change_.

"I felt him," Jem continued. "Or I thought I did. I was in position, ready to do it, willing to do it, and then… I could just _feel_ him. And I knew he was angry with me. No… more disappointed, and… sad. And I couldn't do it. I knew, if I did it, he would be even more disappointed in me."

He tucked his forehead against his knees. I wanted to reach out and hold him, but now wasn't the time. Not yet.

"Aren't you going to say that I did the right thing?" he asked, his voice muffled. "That it's _okay_ , and I'm a _good guy_ now?"

I bowed my head. What was I supposed to say? If I could know for sure that Jem wouldn't try to snitch on me to get back into Ra's' good graces, I would absolutely have said those things. I would have welcomed him to my side, told him I was proud, told him my plans for escape and begged him to join me.

But I couldn't trust him. It broke my heart, but I just couldn't trust him yet.

So, instead, I said, "You know Dad loves you, right?"

One eye peeked out at me. "Are you really going to try to give me that?"

"Yes. It's really true, Jem. Family doesn't stop loving each other. Sure, we may disappoint each other, and we may disagree with each other's choices, but love isn't about perfect harmony, it's about sticking it out through the… dissonance, wow, that turned into a music metaphor."

Jem smiled wearily.

"I guess I'm trying to say that, whether you kill or not, I _love_ you. No matter what decisions you've made, or will make, you're my brother, and that means I will always want the best for you."

Jem gazed at me. "That's how I feel about you."

Our eyes locked and held, and even though we had been apart for so long, even though our lives were so different and we believed such different things, we felt connected. We were twins, after all. And more than that, we were family. Love doesn't have to agree; it just has to hope.

"I can tell you're scared," I said softly. "I get it; Ra's is a big, bad bully."

He frowned.

"Right; sorry. Ra's is…"

"Powerful."

The way he said that one word – with fear and trembling, like he had spoken the name of some ancient, vengeful god – told me everything I needed to know. Jem wasn't just scared; he was shaken to his core.

Now it was time. I reached out my arms and wrapped him a tight hug. He leaned into me like a ship finding anchor.

"Whatever Ra's is, I am here. I will keep you safe, just like you've done for me. I promise. No matter what, I will be here for you."

Jem didn't seem to have any reply. We settled into silence and stayed, alone and awake, for hours. I could feel him shivering against me, but as time wore on, it got better and better until he was still. I closed my eyes and soaked in his presence, like I was starving and hadn't known. This was my brother, the other part of me I had been missing.

This was where he belonged – at my side, in the darkness.

As the sky outside grew lighter, I felt Jem shift. He broke the spell by pulling away from me and finally speaking.

"Sam?"

"Yes?"

"Don't ever become like me." He held my face and looked into my eyes. "Don't ever kill."

/

The next morning, in the middle of my agility stretches, Talia came to me and said I had been summoned by Ra's. She accompanied me to his study, her face betraying her curiosity. I was curious, too – and not a little anxious. What would Ra's want me for? Did he figure out I was eavesdropping? Whichever ninja told on me was a dead man. Figuratively.

When I walked in, Ra's still looked rather stressed, but he managed a gracious nod. "Thank you for coming, Samantha. I'm afraid your brother has disappointed me, which leaves me with a difficult choice."

"Sir?"

Ra's pressed his fingertips together. "Yes, very difficult… Samantha, I wonder, could you tell me what reasons I might have to distrust you?"

I took a step back startled. "To… _dis_ trust me, sir?"

"Yes, any you can think of."

I hesitated. This was no time to act rashly. If I said "none," that would be a lie, and Ra's would know that. What he was asking for was honesty. He wanted to know if I would work with him, even if we weren't in perfect agreement.

"Your experiment killed my parents. You kidnapped my brother."

"This is true. Now, please give me a reason to trust you."

He almost sounded like he was pleading. Was he that hard up for ninja assassins?

"Sir, I long for a better world, just like you do. If you can bring us to a better world, then I am willing and ready to follow you."

Ra's nodded slowly, for a long time. I thought he hadn't heard me, or it wasn't enough. But I kept my mouth shut. It was better to say too little than too much.

Finally, Ra's stood, his thoughtfulness slipping away.

"I have a mission for you, Samantha."

/

I stared down from my fifteenth-floor window at the traffic moving below. Chicago was lovely at night, especially in the winter. There were twinkling lights in all the trees, and everything was decorated in red and green.

I had only been here for a few hours and wouldn't stay longer than tonight. Since my face was still on "Missing" posters in the US, Ra's had thought it prudent to keep me well hidden. He booked a room for one in an expensive hotel, with an added note to "not disturb Miss Gemini." Cadence Gemini - my code name. It sounded far too fancy for me, but I tried to look the part when I stepped out of the private limo in my little black dress and big black sunglasses. Right now, I was supposed to be asleep, showering, or watching TV.

No, Cadence Gemini was. Samantha Meyers was preparing to kill someone. My target: the man Jem had failed to dispose of.

I thought back to the mission debrief. Ra's had told me how this man, John Faise, was the head – and funding – for a project to build a massive community club bent on pleasure and overindulgence. Faise's plans were so economically taxing, they could have been designed to create pollution and excess – and it was going to be built right outside Chicago. Ra's wanted to take him out before the building of the club could properly begin; his death would also stop the money, effectively sinking the project.

I didn't care much why Ra's was after this specific target, especially one so… suburban. All I cared about was, how am I supposed to get out of this one? Jem wasn't available to do it for me, and there was no way to fake out or pretend to mess up. If I blew it here, I blew it forever. Ra's had only just started trusting me.

I had entertained thoughts of running away, getting on a bus and booking it back to Gotham. But then I thought of Jem, miles and miles away, stuck with Ra's al Ghul. If I didn't make Ra's happy, nothing could stop him from turning around and jamming a knife through my brother's heart. It was an unspoken fact that he held us both as collateral against each other. We made the perfect team, yes; but we also made a perfect pair of shackles.

I left the window behind, fed up with thinking. I changed out of my Chanel dress and into my assassin robes. The folds hid weapon upon tiny, practical weapon, everything from knives to poison darts to some unnamed opaque spray I had been told not to inhale. With my body sheathed in a miniature arsenal, I walked out onto the balcony, took a deep breath, and dove into the waiting arms of the night.

I pulled out a small grappling gun and aimed for the rooftops. It felt like ages ago I had ridden Damian like a swing across Gotham City; now, I swung alone, and I didn't like it. The wind felt colder without something to wrap my arms around. But it had to be said – falling, catching, rising with a jolt, it was still thrilling.

If only I could enjoy it.

Faise's apartment was only two blocks away, and I was there in minutes. I landed on the roof of his building and crouched behind a vent. It was only a quick sprint to the door; I picked the lock and dashed inside.

Warmth washed over me; my muscles relaxed, as did my mind. I had to get down three floors without anyone noticing me, then break into Faise's apartment, which included picking more locks and disarming security. There was a night watch in the building, probably because it was home – or home away from home – to more than sixteen big-business names and at least five government officials from the Chicago area. Jem had tipped them off on his run, not badly, but just enough to cause suspicion; they had switched up the watch routes, so I would have to keep my eyes and ears open and my wits alert.

Ra's had told me I wouldn't need my chip for this mission. I was starting to doubt that.

No better time than the present. I ran for the nearest corner, peeked around; no watch guard. Next corner, same thing. The stairwell was only one more corner and a hallway away; I made a run for it.

As I dove past the hallway, light poured over me.

I rolled to a silent halt, my heart pounding. There were footsteps coming quickly my way. I had to hide now, or this whole thing would be over. My eyes swept the hallway ahead of me for anything, a dark corner, an open door, a fire escape.

I wouldn't be able to make the stairwell in time. But maybe…

At the last second, I jumped straight up, kicked in one of the ceiling tiles, and dove through the hole. I caught a glimpse of a flashlight's beam as I replaced the tile, leaving only a crack to peer out of.

One of the night watch guards came around the corner, sweeping the ground with his light. I slowed my breathing and heartrate, silencing any sound that might alert him to my presence. He didn't look up.

After an insufferably long minute, the guard turned and walked back the way he came. I allowed myself one long, calming breath, then dropped out of the ceiling and tip-toed to the stairwell.

I didn't see any lights moving below me; the stairs were clear. I pulled out my grapple again and lowered myself straight down the middle of the staircases. Some middle-school-aged part of me squealed with delight; I had always wanted to do this. But the rest of me, covered in knives and hidden behind a dark scarf, couldn't even manage a smile.

With every second, I got closer to the inevitable. I couldn't stall anymore.

Once I reached Faise's level, I left the stairs and started searching for apartment number 1302. He was pretty far from the stairs, but if I just used more caution than I did before, I wouldn't tip off any more watch guards.

Then, there it was. 1302. I stared at that stupid, awful number as I reached for my picklock tools. It was now or never. I had to think of something. I was not, never _ever_ , going to kill that man.

But while I thought, it was better to keep going. I picked the lock and ran straight for the security system, which would give me ten seconds to enter the right code or start blaring alarm to high heaven. I punched in the numbers Ra's gave me; the system was disarmed in six seconds.

I glanced up at one of the cameras hidden in the corner of Faise's livingroom. Ra's had promised to hack them for me once I was in. I knew it was just a sneaky way to say, "Hey, don't forget, I'm watching your every move."

Thanks for the assist, jerk-face.

I made my way quickly through the apartment, taking in every detail. There were no family pictures; he didn't seem to have a wife or kids. It didn't make me feel better, but at least I didn't feel worse. There was only one bedroom – his, complete with a master bathroom and an enormous closet, according to the blueprints Ra's had shown me. I pushed the door silently open and crept in.

I could hear him before I could see him - the soft, metered breathing that came with deep sleep. He had no idea I was here. I could leave now and he would be none the wiser. But Ra's was watching, and I had to act. Now. Now, Sam.

My fingers slid to grasp the hilt of the knife I had concealed in my sash. I knew how to kill a person; Talia had made sure of that. There were about fifteen… no, eighteen ways to do this that were quick and painless, and five of those were from a distance, which would give me an impersonal factor. I knew how to throw, stab, and cut with a knife; this one in particular had been my training partner for weeks.

But when it really came down to it… could I actually kill this man? I had to, for Jem… but he had told me not to. He had told me I shouldn't ever kill. So, Ra's or Jem? Ra's, or Jem…

My hand dropped back to my side. I couldn't do it.

Now what?

Ra's was watching me. He knew I was hesitating. He knew something was not right. I felt suddenly weak and alone. I felt like a child under her parent's gaze, knowing I've done something wrong and terrified of the consequences. I was helpless. Everything was ruined. Even if I did manage to get back to Gotham in one piece, Jem was a dead man, thanks to me.

And then, it hit me like a ton of bricks.

No matter what I did tonight, I killed a man.

Brilliant; now it was Faise or Jem. Faise, or Jem. I had to choose now, in this moment. Choose, Samantha. Choose to kill the man you've never met, the stranger. Or, choose to keep your hands clean, but lose your brother, again, forever.

Choose, Samantha. Choose.

That was when the radio turned on.

It was so sudden, I jumped out of my skin. My brain registered a song, something with a beat and guitar. It was just music.

But what it did to me…

It felt as if someone had flipped a switch in me. Suddenly, it was _very_ clear what my decision was.

 _The voice of the Demon commands you. You comply._

I whirled on the king-size bed. This man was a pig. A hoarder. No family – alone, guzzling wealth like wine. I slipped the knife from my sash and stood silently over the bed, my jaw clenched, my fingers tightening around the hilt of my blade. Pig. Hoarder. Guzzler. Wealth.

All it took was one quick stab. One to the throat, in and out, with as much fury as I could send to my fist. Done. He was gone, and all his indulgent, self-important ways with him. I stepped back, cleaning the blade on my tunic and replacing the knife in my sash.

"Hey," said a muffled voice from above. "Turn that music off!"

I made a face at the ceiling and turned the radio off. The music stopped.

I woke up to a nightmare.


	7. Chapter 6: Mirror Girl

_Hello all! Sorry it's been so long. In compensation, here's my longest chapter yet. -Essie_

 **Chapter 6 - Mirror Girl**

 _What have I done?_

As I stared unseeing at the dark bed, my brain overloaded. What had just… wait. What happened? What had I done? Faise… he was silent. He might just have been sleeping. But the dark stain slowly spreading across the pillow, a perfect match to the one on my tunic… he wouldn't be waking up. An image was seared into my mind, of my hand, _my own hand_ , wrapped around the hilt of a blade, coming down, _down._ I looked at the thing, so unassuming, so innocent—but now, so dirty, tainted, sinful, disgusting, no, it couldn't be mine. Not mine. Not mine!

Before I could think straight, I pulled out my knife again and raised it, quivering. Cut it off. Just cut it off; it wasn't mine! But I couldn't do it. The knife was shaking. I was losing my grip. The blade fell to the floor.

 _The voice of the Demon commands you_.

My head felt light. Had I lost control? Or had Ra's controlled me? Whichever one, it didn't matter. I had killed a man. I had killed. I was a killer now. Kill, killer, killed… was that _me?_ No, no, no…

I was just like Jem now.

I grabbed at that thought and clutched it close to me. My knees hit the floor. I was like Jem. Jem was okay. He still had a good heart. He loved me. I was like Jem. Maybe I could be okay.

Then doubt, anger, shock. No, I couldn't be okay. Look what I had _done_. I wasn't like Jem, I was like Ra's—like a villain. I was tainted; I was wrong. I was evil.

I had to get out.

My feet found a way under me. The window appeared in my line of vision, along with my disembodied hand, swollen and strange—or was that the grappling hook? I heard a click, a rush, a crash. The window burst wide open, and I followed the taut line out into the night. I felt a sting in my arm and my legs; it didn't matter.

The cold night air hit me like a ton of bricks, shocking me back to reality. I got a better grip on the grapple and swung to the next building, then the next, then the next. I realized the crash and the falling glass would make people look up. They couldn't connect me to Cadence Gemini, or my cover was blown. I swung past my hotel for a few blocks, then landed on a rooftop, out of sight, out of range.

I worked with my hands instead of my head. I shook every weapon I had out of my clothes. I tore off my yellow sash, tossing it over the side of the skyscraper. Then, I pulled off my headscarf and tore it into strips, bandaging the three scrapes I had from jumping out the broken window. Finally, I stuffed my weapons and grappling gun into a snowy corner and hoped they'd rust before someone found them and decided to test for fingerprints.

There was a door leading inside the building; I found it locked, so I kicked it in. A few steps down, there was a hallway. The rooms on either side were numbered—apartments. But, if I recalled correctly, the lower levels housed a department store. I didn't have time to wait for the elevator; I went to the stairwell and raced downward, sometimes jumping whole levels.

Once I was inside the store, I found a nice dress, a coat, and some normal shoes. I changed quickly out of my robes; for good measure, I ripped up the thick gray fabric and tossed it in a trash can. Then, I found a back door and strode out into the street.

A stolen pair of sunglasses served as my mask. The walk to my hotel felt interminably long, but I made it, and when I walked through the front door, the man at the desk simply nodded and waved, busy with a phone call. I ascended the elevator to my room, realized my key was _inside_ the room, and sighed. I had to go back down to the desk and ask for a replacement, giving the excuse that I had foolishly left it behind after going out for dinner.

The door to my room opened at last, with a violent _click_ of the latch that made me jump. The space felt close and gritty and warm. I took one look at the bed and decided all I wanted was to hide under the covers. I tore off my sunglasses, the coat, the dress, the shoes, crawled into bed, and screamed into the pillow.

I screamed for hours.

/

The alarm went off at six in the morning. It was just another noise. I hadn't slept a wink; my voice was gone, my throat like a wall of dust and gravel. My eyes felt dry and stale; I couldn't close them, knowing the _memory_ would be even clearer on dark eyelids.

I had spent the longest hours trying to figure out _how._ How did this happen? It must have been the radio; it turned on so unexpectedly, and exactly in time with whatever happened to me. Ra's must have hacked into it somehow. But why did it cause me to do _that_? How did it have that much power over me? Was it the radio frequency? Was it the music? I couldn't remember what song had played.

What about "the Demon commands?"

The worst possibility swam into my weary mind. Ra's had worked in a failsafe. He had programmed me as a sleeper agent, somehow, sometime during my training, possibly even earlier. How easily could he turn me? What could he make me do?

He could make me kill.

That settled it. Until I knew the key, I wouldn't use my powers at all. No music. Not a single note.

The alarm blared in my ears. I turned it off, my brain rushing far, far ahead to escape… I had two hours before the private car was meant to show up. That meant two hours to get as far away as possible. I had no plan, no money, no phone, not even some normal clothes. All I had was a deep-seated desire tugging at my heart, a need that made my throat catch and my stomach hurt.

I wanted to go home.

If I wanted to travel across America without Ra's al Ghul finding me, I had to disappear completely. I couldn't be Cadence Gemini, or Samantha Meyers. I had to be a nobody. And that meant changing _everything_.

I dragged myself out of bed and into the bathroom. What could I change? My hair… that one was obvious. Wear a lot of makeup. Fancy people attract attention; so do grubby people. Find a middle way.

Shoot. I got rid of all my sharp weapons. Can't cut my hair with those… but they have knives in hotels. Cheap ones, yes, but there are knives in the breakfast room. I scurried into some decent clothing and rushed downstairs.

At six thirty, I stood in front of the bathroom mirror, knife in one hand, hair in the other. Staring at myself poised to do this one stupid, crazy thing, I started to cry silently. I didn't want to get rid of my hair. I hadn't cut it since before Mom died; how could I get rid of it now? But it had to go. It was far too obvious.

I started sawing. A serrated metal breakfast knife is surprisingly awful at cutting hair. It came out jagged and split - completely ruined. But it was exactly what I needed. When it was done - as poorly as you can imagine, a little too short in the front, uneven and choppy in the back - I stared at a complete stranger in the mirror. I really did look different. I didn't look like a senior in high school; I looked like a woman. My face was hardened, the bones more obvious, with a single little scar on my jaw where Talia had cut me during a sparring session. My body was more muscular, and I could tell just by moving that I had grown far beyond the clumsy, hesitant girl I had been a few months ago.

But my eyes… they had changed the most. They blinked out of the mirror at me, staring me down, trying to judge who I was now. I was fierce. I was wary and careful, but not timid. I was a fighter, a thinker, a prowler. I was dangerous.

I hated me.

Where was the sweet, simple little girl who liked having brothers and cooking and cleaning dusty bedrooms and taking walks in the garden? Where was the hopeful sister, the enthusiastic fangirl, the doting niece?

Where was Samantha?

I sighed and turned away. I had no time to wish. It was already almost seven. I had to go.

I checked on the cuts I had gotten last night. They weren't deep; they had already scabbed over. So long as I didn't do anything stupid and rip them open again, I didn't need to bandage them. I said a silent prayer of thanks and moved on.

There was a change of clothes in my bag; plain slacks, a blouse, a suit jacket, more heels. Not too conspicuous. I put it on, along with the coat I had stolen, remembering just in time to rip the tag off.

I allowed myself one more glance in the mirror. I didn't look so intimidating with my eyes and body hidden. My hair was a mess, but if I kept it well tousled and turned the coat collar up, it looked decent enough. With as much confidence as I could muster, I strode out of my room and to the elevator. Nobody was in the lobby as I left, not even the boy at the desk. Nobody saw me leave. It felt like a miracle.

The real miracle would be getting to Gotham by Christmas. Alive. Uncaptured.

I stepped out onto the sidewalk. It had started to snow. Not a single eye turned my way; I was just another city girl, ready for another city day.

I got to the edge of the street and waved for a taxi; the first couple passed by, but I got one at last. As I slid into the backseat, the driver said gruffly from the front seat, "Where to?"

"Uh… east."

"How far?"

I rubbed my eyes. "Just… as far east as possible."

"That'll be a sizeable fare."

Money. Darn. "I'll… pay when we get there. Just drive."

He squinted at me in the mirror. "How old _are_ you, chickee? You have any idea what you're doing?"

I sighed, turning the full face of my wrath on the unfortunate taxi driver. I could feel fire in my eyes as I spoke.

"I said, drive."

He didn't ask any more questions.

A few minutes in, the driver turned the radio on low. I flinched and was about to say something, but my powers didn't kick in, and after a moment I realized it was just coverage of a baseball game. I closed my eyes, hoping beyond hope he wouldn't suddenly turn it to music. Never again, I'd said. I meant it.

/

The cabby drove me as many blocks as his service allowed, then told me that I had to get out. I'd been preparing for that the whole drive; as soon as he stopped, I opened my door and started walking.

"Wha—hey! Come back!"

I dug my chin deeper into my coat collar and kept moving. The driver tried to grab the attention of a passerby, but fortunately for me, the obviously busy man didn't pay any attention. Then the taxi driver had the brilliant idea to drive after me, but by then I'd made it to a nearby coffeeshop. I walked straight up to the counter, where a barista sat twirling a plastic cup in boredom.

"Excuse me," I said, letting my voice shake a little. "Um… there's a taxi outside that's following me. I don't know what to do…"

Her face went from tired to intent as she rose from her seat behind the counter.

"Leave it to me, honey." She glanced out the front window, probably noticed my ride stalking the street, and went stormily to the store phone. "We have to teach these stupid city men…"

I didn't stick around to hear the end of it. As soon as her eyes were off me, I turned on my heel and left the store. My taxi driver was currently in the process of trying to find a parking spot, so I managed to slip past him.

The next step: get rid of this coat. It was too noticeable now.

I found a woman begging on the sidewalk. She was definitely thrown off by my odd request, but she didn't say no to my nice, big, furry coat. A minute later, I was walking down the street in a less-than-warm but inconspicuous black hoodie.

Now I had to find another ride, preferably one I didn't have to pay. I walked for a while, block to block, watching the city fade away into dead houses and barren plots of land. Railroad tracks ran parallel to my path, the occasional train thundering past to break the silence.

I stuck out my thumb a couple times; nobody stopped. They were on their way home from the city; they didn't have time for me, with my grubby hoodie and wild hair. But as I got further out, a couple faces stayed fixed on me for more than an instant, and a couple cars seemed to slow. Finally, some incredible man in a dusty pickup truck stopped a few yards ahead of me and called out of his window.

"You looking for a lift?"

"I am!"

"Hop in back. Where are you headed?"

I got up into the bed of the truck. "Anywhere. So long as it's east."

"No kidding? I'm headed out to my farm, over in Indiana. That east enough for you?"

"It'll do fine."

We drove for about two hours. Halfway in, it started to snow; my driver let me get into the cab so I wouldn't freeze. As the snow got worse, I started to worry. What if I got stuck somewhere? What if I ended up someplace with technology—computers for Ra's to track me, radios for him to control me? What would I do then? What if I murdered this nice man in his sleep, just like Faise?

Oh, god. That thought… that did it for me.

Suddenly, I had to get out of the car. I had to get away from this nice man and his truck—far, far away. I happened to notice a row of trees, packed into a ditch on the side of the road, right next to a toll booth.

"I'll get out here."

My driver stared at me. "Now? Kid, it's gotta be negative degrees out there. Are you planning on walking?"

"Just let me out, please."

"You—"

"Now."

He leaned a little further away from me and pulled over. As I hopped out of the truck, he called after me.

"You could come the rest of the way with me. My farm's only a couple—"

"No. You'll thank me later."

I started walking. I could hear him continue talking, yelling, but I couldn't hear his words over the wind. In seconds, he had been swallowed into the storm.

/

The weather strengthened from flurry to blizzard; any tracks I made would be filled within minutes. I felt a momentary flash of worry as I ran headlong into unknown territory, all covered in a dense white curtain. But at least there would be no music out her.

The trees only went for a couple yards, but they were dense enough that I couldn't see the road when I turned around. I followed the tree line for a while, keeping my hand out so I could feel them as I walked. It was hard to see anything in the snow, and I didn't want to get lost.

My fingers were frozen in minutes, and my nose was completely numb. Heels are the worst possible snowshoes, and I found myself going slower and slower as the snow piled up. I tried to console myself by imagining I was a character in one of those old prairie novels, travelling from town to my house in the woods, carrying food and treats to my family. Oh, how I wished I had some real food! Or a house in the woods. I was starting to regret leaving that nice man, with his truck and his farm and the promise of a soft bed for the night.

I don't know how long I walked, but I managed to hit my limit. I had been trained to survive cold temperatures, not a full North American blizzard. I couldn't see past the end of my nose. I kept my hand on the last tree I had touched, slowly pulling myself toward it. I hugged my arms around its trunk and wished the snow would stop, if just so I could see something other than white.

Then I realized that I _could_ see something else. Something was blocking a decent portion of the snowfall. As I peered through the blustering flakes, I made out the side of a building. My heart leapt. It was a barn! Maybe somehow, I'd made it to the nice man's farm. I forced my way through the snowdrifts to the barn, then walked around it until I found a door. I heaved the heavy wooden barricade open and tumbled inside.

Instantly, I could see more clearly. Without snowflakes piling up in my hair, melting against my eyelashes, freezing my bare hands and feet, I started to feel like a person again. Blinking up at the faraway ceiling, I thought to myself, _At least I'm alive._

Was Jem alive? My mind called out to me, scolding me for having not thought about him for a full day. But I was too tired to give him any attention. I needed to sleep, and maybe eat, and then, _then_ , I would let myself think about my brother.

I crawled to the nearest pile of hay, bits of straw sticking to my damp clothes. The moment I was curled up and comfortable, I fell fast asleep.

/

Sometime later, I woke up to a strange sensation. Something had climbed into the hay with me. Something small and warm.

My eyes fluttered open, and I smiled. There was a tabby cat, just sitting there, curled up against my stomach. It looked at me with questioning, piercing eyes. _What are you doing in my barn?_

I smiled and blinked slowly, once, twice. I let her – I assumed it was a 'her' – sniff my hand, learn my scent, become my friend. Then I petted her for a little while, growing more and more sleepy every second.

The cat purred. The snow outside shushed me to sleep.

/

"Hey!"

I jolted awake. The cat was gone. And a man stood in the middle of the floor, staring at me. Not the nice man with the truck; just a very confused man.

"What are you doing in here?"

"Waiting for the storm." My eyes searched the barn. Where did my cat go?

"Where… where did you come from?"

"Chicago."

"In _this_ storm?"

"I had a ride for part of it."

"But you have to have walked to get in here. We're five miles from any highway."

"Five miles." I blinked at him. "It felt farther than that."

The man shook his head and crossed his sturdy arms. "I don't know how you made it here, but you can't stay. This barn isn't warm enough for any living thing. Speaking of which, have you seen a cat around here?"

"Yeah. She was with me."

The man glanced around the barn. He whistled. "Tira! Com'ere, Tira!"

"There she is," I said, pointing. The tabby cat padded across the hay-strewn floor and started playing with the man's bootlaces.

"Aha. Thank you." The man bent down and lifted the cat into his arms. "You're coming with me." He glanced at me, then held out a hand. "You should come, too."

I shouldn't. My brain was still a little sleepy and a little fuzzy, but I knew there would be dangers. There would be things to hack in his house. Ra's would find me and hurt this nice man and his cat.

Still… Ra's hadn't trained me for nothing. I could protect them. And I really wanted to go somewhere warm. That had food. And a real bed.

I got to my feet and took the man's hand. He smiled at me, and his eyes sparkled with kindness. I realized that I trusted him completely. It was good to know I could still trust.

"What's your name, sweetheart?"

Quick, think… "Jo."

"Nice to meet you, Jo. I'm Matthew Beckham. This little lady is Tiramisu."

I grinned. "Really?"

"My kids named her. Speaking of, we should get back to the house quick, before we get snowed into this place. Keep hold of my hand, now… and follow me closely."

We shoved our way out the door and into the snow. If it was possible for a blizzard to get worse, this one had done it. But this time, I noticed something I hadn't before: a rope, tied to the side of the barn. Matthew yelled at me to grab hold of it and start walking. He came behind me, carrying Tiramisu in one hand and following the rope with the other.

In this fashion, we trudged through the snow, half blind, clutching the rope for dear life. I couldn't imagine how Matthew could keep his balance, especially while carrying a squirming, mewing cat. But somehow, we made it to the front porch of the house, where the other end of the rope was tied to a beam. Matthew led me forward and knocked hard on the front door.

The door opened, and Matthew dragged me inside. I blinked the snow out of my eyes and brushed off my hair while he stamped the flakes from his boots.

"…Alright, I'm fairly certain I sent you out to find a _cat_."

Matthew turned to the woman who had opened the door. "Hey, Sadie. Don't worry, I did that." He lifted Tiramisu triumphantly; she shook herself and jumped to the floor, leaving a trail of wet pawprints and bits of hay.

I flinched as Matthew put his hand on my back. "Turns out, though, cat wasn't the only one hiding in the barn."

I kept my eyes on the floor as Sadie - probably Matthew's wife - stared down at me. I thought she might get angry. Maybe she would kick me out. But if I had looked up, I would have seen eyes as kind and welcoming as Matthew's.

"Another for dinner, then," Sadie Beckham said. She took me by the shoulders and steered me into the bathroom. There, I got my first good look at her. She had long blonde hair tied back in a braid, and soft brown eyes like a doe. Her hands were rough and strong, and she moved with all the authority and experience of a hard-working mother.

Sadie quickly got me out of my soggy, sagging clothes and wrapped me up in towels. I felt a little nervous when she glanced at my odd assortment of gear—after all, who wears a junkie hoodie with Sunday slacks? But she didn't ask questions. Instead, she helped me comb the straw from my hair and sighed over the sorry state of my shorn locks. She noticed the cuts on my arm and legs and forced me to accept some first aid. Then she left to find me something clean and dry to wear.

So I looked at my reflection again.

I wasn't a woman anymore. I was just a girl, looking even more dejected than before. I could tell that the fierce, dangerous warrior was under all that sadness, but she was too tired to make a full appearance. My hair had settled somewhat and was drying into shaggy waves. It didn't look as bad as before, but it was still bad. Seeing myself like this—bedraggled, shorn, and shaken—I couldn't help feeling lost. How much would I keep changing? Would I have a different face every time I looked? If only someone I knew could see me. Maybe they could help me figure out who I was.

Sadie came back with things from her own wardrobe. She dressed me in a plaid shirt and jeans, making sure I had warm socks and plenty of layers. It had been so long since a mother took care of me, that I just sat there, letting her do what she wanted, wishing I could look up and see a face I recognized.

Finally, once I was all dressed and dry, Sadie crouched down in front of me and took my hands. She smiled warmly and said, "There now. Much better."

I smiled back. "Thank you."

"What's your name, sweetie?"

I flicked back through my memories for the name I had given Matthew. "Jo."

"Ok, Jo. Can you tell me where you're from?"

I blinked. "I travelled from Chicago."

"Is that your home? Do you have family there?"

"No."

"Where's home, then?"

I understood. She wanted to know where and whom to call. But she couldn't call anyone. Ra's could hack a phone line as easy as buttering his morning toast.

"I'm from the east coast. I'm aiming that way."

"Oh, where from? I can tell by your accent you're not a New Yorker."

"No, I'm not."

"Can you tell me where you're from, then?"

I shook my head.

"Why not?"

"I can't."

Sadie kept her face calm, but I could hear her voice change. She sounded angry.

"Are you hiding from someone?"

I glanced around the bathroom. There were no cameras. Very slowly, I nodded.

Sadie's eyes flashed. "Okay, then, sweetie. Well, we're happy to house you here. No one can find you here. I promise. You're safe with us."

I knew she meant to sound comforting, but it just made my heart pound. I couldn't be safe with them. Ra's would find me the moment I settled somewhere. Maybe I could stay one night, until the storm passed, but after that, I had to keep moving. I couldn't let Ra's find these people.

"Come and have something to eat, Jo," Sadie was saying, getting me on my feet and leading me to the dining room. She sat me down at the table, then called out, "Dinner!"

I heard two pairs of little feet running through the house. Into the room burst two little curly heads, one dirty blonde, one dusty brown. Two pairs of blue eyes stared at me with shy curiosity.

"These are the kids," Sadie said with obvious pride. "Jordan is five" - she put a hand on the blonde head, then the brunette - "and Hannah is seven."

I smiled. Children. This only made it more dangerous to stay. Still, seeing them, I felt something I hadn't in a long time. I had been living with grown-ups for months; since school ended, I hadn't seen many people below my age. Now, seeing Sadie's kids, I started to feel… something. I couldn't put words to it, but I felt whole. More at ease. I gave a little wave.

"Hi. My name is Jo."

Hannah grinned and waved back. Jordan hid behind his sister.

Sadie called to her husband and got everyone seated. I saw Matthew for the first time as he was, without a coat and hat, and minus a lot of snow. He had the same dusty brown hair as his daughter, coiled up close to his head, and his broad shoulders and strong hands marked him as a hardworking farmer.

I could smell that dinner would be amazing, but before I could dig in, Matthew held out his hands to his children. "Shall we pray?"

Pray. Of course.

I hesitated, then put my hand in his. Hannah took the other, and Jordan took hers, and Sadie closed the circle. Then Matthew bowed his head.

"Heavenly Father, we thank you for safety from this mighty storm - for good food, a warm place to stay, and people to share it with. We thank you especially for our guest, Jo, and pray that you would keep her in good health and good company."

I kept my eyes tight shut as he spoke. It had been a long time since I had prayed, and longer since I had gone to church; it wasn't really the sort of thing the Waynes did. But before, when my parents had been sick, I had prayed almost constantly. I missed the feeling of being able to talk to someone about anything. I missed having the time and the space to speak freely, to ask for hope and protection, to give thanks, to share my burdens. Now, with Matthew's deep, calming voice running through my head, I added my own desperate prayer to his: _Lord, please don't make these people suffer for me. Please, Lord, keep them safe._

"Amen."

Sadie squeezed my hand. "Dig in!"

That night was the first night I started to feel _normal._ I had the best meal I had eaten in months. I was surrounded by a family that was warm, loving, and felt safe and secure. Watching them interact, so peaceful in their joy and laughter, I felt myself slipping out of the warrior, out of the fugitive, and back into… not Samantha, but something close.

/

They set me up on the couch bed, with lots of thick quilts and fluffy pillows. I patted the quilt that was on the very top - one Sadie had made herself, using some of her and Matthew's old shirts.

"Would you like me to leave a light on?" Sadie asked.

I was about to shake my head, when I really thought about it.

"Yes, please." No more darkness, please.

Sadie turned off every light except one, casting the room in soft, heavy shadows. "How's that?"

"Good, thank you."

"Do you need anything else? I can have a little noise… maybe some quiet music…"

"No!"

Sadie stared at me in shock. I closed my eyes and reprimanded my racing heart. "No, thanks. I'm good."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

Sadie shook off her surprise and smiled. She sat on the bed and patted my hand. "You sleep well, alright? Tomorrow, maybe we can fix up your hair a bit. Would you like that?"

I nodded. I couldn't help it. My half-mullet did feel very strange and ugly.

Sadie kept her hand on mine, hesitating, thinking. "Jo… I just want you to know that I'm here for you. If you want to tell me anything… if you need anything… I want you to feel like you can talk to me. Okay?"

I nodded again.

"Good girl." She leaned over and gave me a kiss on the forehead, like Alfred does to say goodnight. That made me miss him. "I'll see you in the morning. Call if you need anything."

She left the room—left me alone. I looked around, my eyes scanning and rescanning for any tech, any cameras, anything Ra's could use against me. But I saw nothing. The TV was the biggest threat, and all I could think of that he could use that for would be aggressive channel flipping. The thought couldn't seem to make me any less tense.

I fell asleep after a long time. I should've known it was a mistake.

/

 _I was walking through some sort of museum. I wasn't looking at the objects; they could've been anything, encased in delicate glass. My limbs felt heavy; I walked too slowly, the room growing bigger with each step._

 _Alfred walked next to me. He didn't speak. I couldn't quite make out his face. Behind him walked Jem; my twin looked at me and started to speak. I forgot his words in an instant._

 _We came to a grand staircase and began to descend. But before we could make it all the way, Jem took off, climbing anything in sight until he had reached the ceiling. I looked down and saw a stranger at the next landing, someone I knew was evil._

" _I am looking for your brother," the stranger said. "Have you seen him?"_

" _No," I lied._

 _I reached the landing. The stranger started to circle me, offering me trinkets in exchange for answers. I didn't give him the satisfaction._

" _If you think you can bribe me with any of this," I said, feeling brave and powerful, "then you don't know me."_

 _The stranger just smiled. Then he pulled out a knife and carved a line from my spine to my shoulder._

 _I recoiled in shock, my heart pounding. I could feel the dream fading, turning to reality, as I fought against the stranger. But I had no strength. His blade ran across my skin, delicately breaking me apart. And as I screamed, he laughed._

/

My eyes blinked open.

Sadie was holding me, rocking back and forth, her motherly voice singing softly. I didn't know how long she had been there, how long she had been forced to rock and sing. My throat hurt from screaming and crying. My face was wet with tears.

Sadie noticed that my eyes were open. She smoothed my hair and whispered, "Sh. You're alright. Sh. I've got you."

"I'm sorry…"

"No, no, sh, there's nothing to be sorry for. You were just having a dream."

She continued rocking for a minute. Then, ever so quietly, she asked, "What were you dreaming about?"

The way she said it, I could tell she had no idea what to do with me. I must have reacted worse than I thought. I couldn't tell her what my mind had done. I didn't want to say it out loud.

Just at the end, the stranger had become Ra's al Ghul.

/

I woke up to morning sunshine. When I felt something weighing down the covers, I realized that Tiramisu had curled up beside me and was napping. I carefully started petting her, and she purred drowsily.

Judging by the angle of the shadows, it wasn't later than six in the morning. The storm had clearly stopped. I sat up, slowly, so as not to disturb the cat, and slid out of bed. On sock feet, I padded to the kitchen, hoping I might find some food. A voice in the back of my head mentioned now would be a good time to hit the road, but I was so comfortable in my warm socks and borrowed sweater, and the quiet house looked so welcoming in the soft morning light, I didn't listen for a second.

Sadie was already awake and preparing breakfast. She smiled when I came in.

"Good morning. How did you sleep? Other than…"

I nodded quickly. "Yeah, good. I'm good."

"I'm glad. You remember, of course, if you ever want to talk…"

"I remember." I wasn't ever going to tell her anything. That was certain. Do you realize how she would look at me if she knew?

She nodded to the small kitchen table. "Go ahead and sit. I'll have something ready to eat in a bit."

I took a seat and folded my hands. "You know… speaking of last night, I'm sorry about waking you. And if I woke the kids."

"Oh, no, they sleep like rocks. Don't apologize, I understand." Sadie glanced at me. "I grew up in a pretty messed-up place; I have plenty of nightmares."

I cocked my head. "Where did you grow up?"

Sadie raised her eyebrows. "Same as you, I believe. Gotham City."

My heart jumped. "How… I mean… I'm not…"

"I know a fellow Gothamite when I meet one," Sadie said, her voice dropping low. "The accent, for one; it's not that distinct, but it takes one to know one. And there's… other things. I've noticed Gotham natives have a certain… spark in them, and not the good kind. We've seen things we ought never to have seen, and we've learned to fight instead of flee. That's why I moved way out here—so my family would never have to experience what I did."

I bowed my head. "Lucky."

Sadie sat across from me. "You don't have to go back there, you know. Maybe your family's from there, but that doesn't mean you're tied to that awful place."

My sight flickered with yearning. She was right, of course. I could live anywhere, far away from the madness of that cursed city. I could start over, make new friends, build a new life. I could…

"No," I said. "I have to go back. Believe it or not, Gotham may be the only place I will ever be safe."

Sadie laughed, but it was with a twist of bitterness. "I've never heard that before."

"It's true for me."

She leaned her head on one hand, searching my face. "What does Gotham have that we don't?"

I pursed my lips. She would laugh at me.

"Batman."

Sadie stared at me for a beat, two beats, three. I waited for her to chuckle, to shake her head and say I was a silly fangirl. But then, something shifted in the depths of her eyes—a lingering wistfulness, almost like a passing memory.

"Well… I guess that's fair."

"You've… met him. Haven't you?"

She ran a hand through her hair. "Briefly. He was the reason I left."

I leaned forward. "Why?"

Sadie shrugged. "I got mixed up in a hostage situation. Like everybody else there, I knew he would come save us. I was counting on him. But when he did… I realized I didn't want his kind of safety. All he did was beat up a couple of men in masks. They were probably just as scared as we were. After that, I decided I didn't want to support a man who had complete freedom to punch anyone he wanted. I couldn't live under that kind of safety."

I stared down at my hands. My hands, which had done things that could never be undone. Hands that I couldn't control—that might need to be stopped.

"I think I need that kind of safety," I said. "I need someone like Batman, who does what has to be done to keep people safe."

Sadie reached out and took my hand—that hand, the one that held the knife. I shuddered once, violently.

"Jo. You don't have to be afraid."

I could _feel_ the change in my eyes, when I became that dangerous woman again. They flashed with fire as I looked up at my hostess.

"I think I do."

/

Breakfast consisted of oatmeal, tea, and various canned fruits. It would have tasted fine, if I hadn't had to eat around a swollen cheek, which I had bitten last night. Thankfully, Hannah and Jordan had lost their initial shyness and made up for all the joy and exuberance I lacked. Hannah couldn't resist playing with my short, fluffy hair, even with peach preserves on her fingers. Jordan babbled on about dinosaurs, handing me various specimens in plastic so he could tell me their names and what was cool about them. I played along, and soon we were having a full battle—T-rex versus stegosaurus.

Once everyone was fed, Sadie tugged at my arm. "Come on, sweetie. Let's do something about your hair."

I got up and followed her to the bathroom. She covered me in a blanket, then pulled out scissors and her husband's electric razor. I winced. It would be very short when she was done.

And then she pulled off a miracle. Sadie did have to shave the back a bit, but only to get it an even length, and it still had a fair amount of volume. The result was a sloping hairstyle with a little bit of length that framed my face in heavy, soft waves. It made me look five years older, and at the same time younger—or rather, more innocent.

I twirled in front of the mirror, smiling at this new, unburdened girl. "I love it! Thank you, Sadie."

Sadie chuckled. "You're very welcome. It was definitely easier than dealing with these two." She pointed to her two spring-headed children.

Matthew poked his head into the bathroom. "Ah! I like it."

"Your wife is a real stylist," I said.

"Isn't she, though?" Matthew gave his wife a quick kiss. "I'm finished shoveling."

"You remembered the driveway?"

"I didn't get to it just yet. I came back for some lunch."

"There's sandwich fixings in the fridge."

"Mama, can I have a sandwich?"

Sadie ran a hand through my hair, checking for stray clippings. "In a little bit, Jordy. Papa just needs to eat before he goes back out. We don't have lunch until twelve o'clock, remember?"

Jordan ran off, then came scrambling back. "It's almost twelve o'clock!"

"What time is it, bud?"

"Eleven. That's almost twelve. Please can I have a sandwich?"

"Not yet, Jordy," Sadie repeated with a motherly laugh. "Can you be patient?"

"But I want a-"

"Hey, Jordan," I interrupted. "What if I played dinosaurs with you? Then it will be twelve before you know it."

Jordan thought. "T-rex versus stegosaurus?"

"Yeah, that sounds fun! Why don't you go find your dinosaurs and bring them to the living room?"

Jordan bolted for his room as Sadie gave me a grateful smile. "Have experience?"

"I just like playing with little kids. I'll hang out with the grammar schoolers when they're playing outside, waiting to get picked up. So… I guess that is experience, of a sort."

"Where do you go to school?"

"Gatehouse. It's a small private school, K through 12. Not many people know about it."

Sadie's eyebrows rose. "Really? I graduated from Gatehouse!"

"No way! Are you serious?"

"Yeah. Class of '98. I was actually good friends with the current headmaster."

"You're kidding."

"Not at all! Barney Patrick, right?"

"That's him. This is so weird, no one _ever_ knows about Gatehouse."

Sadie laughed. "Well, maybe we were fated to meet."

I nodded. "Maybe."

We stared at each other for a moment, wondering the same thing: was it really fate? What were the odds we would find each other, way out here?

"Jo," Sadie said suddenly, making me jump. "This winter's only just beginning. There'll be more snow, and it's only going to get colder. You know that, right?"

I did.

"And Gotham's pretty far away still."

Yeah…

"So, maybe…"

"Jo!" Jordan ran up and grabbed my hand. "Come on! Come and play!"

I glanced at Sadie. A strange look crossed her face, but it passed quickly. She waved me away. "Go ahead."

I followed Jordan into the living room and picked up a stegosaurus. But my mind was a little too preoccupied to get into the big battle, even when Jordan started pounding his T-rex into my leg.

Sadie wanted me to stay. I knew it. She had been about to suggest it. And I doubt it was just because the weather conditions were treacherous. She was starting to get attached to me.

I was getting attached to her.

Sadie was the closest thing I had had to a mother since May. She was kind, firm, loving, caring. Better yet, she was from Gotham—she'd even gone to my school. She understood me, sort of. And it wasn't just her. The whole Beckham family was growing on me. The kids, Matthew, Tiramisu… I loved them all.

If Sadie asked me to stay, why wouldn't I? I could live without the madness of Gotham, without the intensity of Batman, Ra's, their war. I could have two little siblings, and two loving parents. I could have a family again.

But didn't I already have a family?

Jordan smashed his T-rex down on my stegosaurus. "T-rex wins!"

I smiled. "Yes, he did. You want to play again?"

Jordan grabbed the stegosaurus from my hand. "Stegosaurus is gonna try to win now."

I chuckled and let him play. He was engrossed in his own game in seconds, banging the two dinosaurs together and yelling "raar!" each time they hit.

Okay, so, I already had a family. Right? Did the Wayne's count? I mean, if I thought about it, I was only with them for two months. Was that really enough time to become part of a family? But then, I had only been with the Beckhams for a day. How long did it take for strangers to become a family?

Still, none of that applied to Alfred. He was actually my family. I couldn't just abandon him. In fact, I wanted nothing more than to see him again. But could I really go all the way back to Gotham - back to that hell hole where my parents died, where my brother was taken from me, where my life was a constant war between joy and misery - for one person?

Out of the blue, I was hit with a wave of longing. Alfred's face loomed large before my eyes—every detail: the deep, wise eyes; the crooked nose; all the wrinkles, from smiling, from frowning, from laughing, from that particularly amusing expression he made when he was displeased with someone. I could see him, clear as day, as if I could reach out and touch him.

My mind shoved the memory of the day we first met to the forefront of my consciousness. It was at my father's wake. Mom and I were standing at the front of the room, near the casket, shaking hands, listening to condolences, accepting the comfort of person after soft-voiced person. I had gotten tired, and was desperate for it all to be over, so I could hide in my room.

Then, my mother patted my shoulder. "Samantha. This is your Great-Uncle Alfred."

I looked up and saw that beloved face for the first time. Alfred didn't look at me like the others did. Somehow, I knew he'd been in this place before. He was a friend to the mourner.

Without a word, I hugged him hard.

And he just hugged me back. It didn't matter that we were barely acquaintances at that point; we vanished into that moment, two old souls finding something familiar in each other.

We had only gotten closer after that. Within a few months, we were meeting for tea, talking like old chums, sharing life stories for fun. Alfred told me about how his employer, Bruce Wayne, had lost both of his parents at a young age; Alfred had been the one who stood with the boy through the following difficulties. He comforted me with all the knowledge of one who understands the needs of children, and that they are different from those of adults. He was a fantastic storyteller; I could listen to him for hours. And when Mom got sick, he was my constant companion.

My heart ached for his presence. I wanted to hear his voice again, to ask for some of his wisdom, his comfort. I wanted him to tell me how to live with the terrible thing I had done. More than anything, I wanted one of his big, strong hugs, the ones that made you feel warm and whole, even when everything was wrong.

No, I couldn't go back to Gotham for one person. I could go back to Gotham for Alfred.

All of a sudden, I jumped to my feet. "Sadie!" I ran to the kitchen, searching for her. "Sadie!"

Sadie looked up from the plate of sandwiches she was arranging, her face slightly terrified. "What?! What is it?"

"I have to leave. I have to go back to Gotham, right now."

Sadie blinked. "Um… Jo, I don't… think…"

"I don't care if it's dangerous. I need… to go _home._ " My voice cracked. "Sadie, help me."

Sadie's eyes warred with a million emotions. She set her jaw. "Matthew should be back soon. We can figure something out then."

My fingers fluttered and clenched, trying to hold back the energy that was surging through me. "I can't wait."

"You can and you will!" Sadie put her hand on her hips. "You cannot go traipsing across the country in the middle of winter, young lady, and certainly not just to go back to Gotham, of all places!"

"I have to go."

"No, you don't." She came across the room and took my hands. "Jo, that place is vile. It's not good for you!"

"If your family was waiting for you there, wouldn't you go?"

Sadie frowned.

"Look," I said. "I admit it. I… I really like you all. I would love to stay. But I can't. I can't just leave my family! I can't. I have to go back. Sadie, let me leave."

Sadie stood with her arms folded, staring at me, searching me. I folded my arms and stared right back.

"I can make it, you know. On my own. I just need food and warm clothes. I don't need your help."

"You couldn't," Sadie said. "No one could. It's humanly impossible."

"You don't know me!"

Sadie took a step back. I knew instantly that I had gone too far. I could feel myself slipping toward my dangerous side; I could've ended the conversation there, stolen what I needed, and gotten out. But I couldn't let Ra's win. I had to prove I could be civil. Reasonable. Kind.

I took a deep breath and lowered my voice. "Sadie, there's a lot about me that you don't know. I'd prefer to leave it that way. But so you know, I _can_ survive in the cold for… a long time. With the added help of some warm clothing and something to eat, I could easily make it for a couple days, maybe even a week. I could make it to Gotham by myself. I'm asking for your help because… I want your permission. I don't want to walk out on you. I want to part as friends."

Sadie pursed her lips, thinking. My toe started tapping, begging time to move faster, so I could get moving.

Finally, she sighed. "I just don't want you to hurt yourself. I couldn't stand letting anything bad happen to you."

I almost laughed. It was a little too late for that.

"I promise to be careful," I said.

"Then I'll see what I can do." She set the sandwiches on the kitchen table. "Eat first, though. I made extra, and I don't want them to go to waste."

An hour later, Matthew came home again, having plowed the snow from the mile-long driveway. Sadie told him about my wish to return home. When he heard it, his face turned thoughtful.

"Sadie, we all fit in the truck."

Sadie's face flashed a bewildered and worried look. "And?"

"We have the car, too."

I instantly shook my head. "No, no way. I don't need a car, really."

"Can you drive?"

"Well, yeah, but I can't…"

"You can and you will," Matthew said.

"Matthew! We have insurance on that."

"I side with Sadie, you can't just give me your car."

Matthew turned to his wife. "Sadie. Let me do this. When I found Jo in the barn, I knew it was my duty to do everything in my power to help her. We can survive without a car for a while."

Sadie clutched her head. "But it's… ludicrous. We… it's a _whole car_."

Matthew got up and put a hand on Sadie's back. "You know what, let's talk for a minute, okay?"

He steered her into the bedroom, where I heard Sadie's raised voice arguing with Matthew's level tone. I heard the phrase "entertaining angels" tossed about. My chest started to feel tight with emotion. He couldn't really think I was an _angel,_ could he? Was Matthew really willing to go so far as to hand his car over to a stranger, just for me? No matter how badly I wanted to get to Gotham, I couldn't accept such a gift.

They came out of the bedroom a little while later. Sadie looked pensive. It took her a moment to form her thoughts into words.

"Jo… if you're willing, if you'll accept it… we want you to take the car."

I immediately shook my head. "I can't take it."

"We have other modes of transport," Matthew argued. "You said you wanted to get home as quickly as possible. Without a car, it would take you at least a few days, and in this weather, I wouldn't want you to travel on foot."

"But I said I could do it. It's just some snow."

"I'm not willing to debate this." Matthew took my hands into both of his. "I want you to take the car. I want you to get home."

And unexpected tear worked its way from my eye. I didn't deserve this man's kindness. He didn't even know me, let alone who I was - what I had done. But he trusted me with something he had paid money for, something important to his family. Even more incredible, he was doing it for no reason other than he wanted to. He was being selfless. I had never met anyone in my life, not a single person, who had attained such a level of selflessness.

I guess I had to leave Gotham to find the good people.

"Alright," I said softly. "Thank you."

Matthew smiled and patted my hand. "Good girl. Sadie, help her pack up. We're getting her on the road."


	8. Chapter 7: The Return of the Soldier

_Hello all! I'm sorry I'm so slow!_

 _I have some news that could be bad (thought it's good to me). I am studying abroad this summer, which means I'm going to be pretty busy for about two months. That means—you guessed it!—I probably won't be uploading new chapters during that time! So sorry for the delay. I hope I can get at least two more out before I leave. Thanks for bearing with me!_

 _-Essie_

/

 **Chapter 7 - The Return of the Soldier**

As I sat on the couch waiting for Sadie to finish packing me an overnight bag, it hit me that I was actually going home. I had been running away before, not running to. But now, I could think about the destination at last. And it filled me with an energetic joy.

I realized the Waynes probably had no idea I was coming; Alfred had no idea. Did I really want to surprise my uncle, who had to be over eighty by now, out of the blue, after four months, when I had no idea how he'd take it? Not that I thought he'd have a heart attack or anything; he's stronger than that. But I wanted to tell them I was on my way, so they'd be prepared. The only question was, how could I do that without alerting Ra's to my whereabouts?

As I was thinking, I happened to glance through a doorway I hadn't noticed before. It was an office of some sort. And there was a laptop computer.

A plan suddenly formed in my head. I rushed to Sadie and asked her—very cryptically—if I could contact my friends using her computer. She obliged and got me onto the internet, then left so I could form my message in privacy.

The first thing I did was go to the Wayne Enterprises customer page. I borrowed Sadie's email so I could send a message through the "Contact Us" line. I couldn't send anything directly to Bruce, sadly; but, after a moment, I realized I didn't need to. I knew exactly what to say to get his attention.

So I wrote:

"Dear Wayne Enterprises:

"I would like to inform you that a piece of missing tech has found its way into my possession. I will be returning it to you within twenty-four hours. Please ask Mr. Wayne to give his butler regards from Meadowlark.

"S."

I smiled and sat back. Anyone other than Bruce would just assume the "S" stood for Sadie, since her email handle was her first name and the initial of her last. But as soon as it got to people who knew me—I knew it would, thanks to the personal message I'd added—they would recognize who had really sent it.

I sent the message, then closed the tab and deleted it from Sadie's search history.

Sadie gave me a questioning look as I came out; I gave her a thumbs up.

"They've been contacted. They'll know I'm coming."

"Good! I'm so glad you have someone already there. I would never let you go if it was just you on your own."

She handed me a bag full of food and a change of clothes. In no time at all, I was standing in the front hall, with Sadie buttoning me into her heavier winter coat and yanking a hat onto my head. She fondly fingered my short locks.

"It really does suit you, you know."

I nodded. Then, without a word, I threw myself into her arms.

Sadie sighed and hugged me back. I heard the patter of little feet and felt Jordan and Hannah hugging my knees. Finally, Matthew added himself to the pile. We were a giggling mess, and nearly toppled over several times, but no one wanted to be the first to let go. I certainly wouldn't be.

When we finally let go, Sadie and I were both crying. But we wiped away our tears quickly so I could say goodbye and follow Matthew out to the car. My last glimpse was of her standing just inside the door, her beautiful children each holding one of her hands, framed by the glow of the hall light. I smiled. Maybe the Beckhams hadn't hosted an angel, but my hostess surely was one.

Matthew held out a single key. "Here. I'll show you the controls…"

"I'll be fine," I said. I slid into the driver's seat, running my hands along the dashboard, the steering wheel, the stick shift. It was a little old, but in good condition. I smiled. I had learned how to drive stick from Alfred.

"Are you sure?" Matthew asked. "You've got this? I'm not handing my car over to an inexperienced minor."

"I have my license, Matthew, don't worry. That is, I have a license; it's not with me."

"Good." Matthew gave me an intense glare. "The less people have to identify you, the better. I don't know who's after you, but I can tell they're not the good sort."

I smiled. "I'm sorry I brought you so much trouble."

"You did no such thing. I think Sadie's missed having a competent female around the house besides the cat."

I stepped out of the car and gave Matthew one last hug. "Thank you so much for everything."

Matthew laughed. "Not at all. I'm just glad I found you. I tell you, the moment I saw you in the barn, I knew, I was meant to be your friend. Hey, and if you ever get the chance, kiddo… give us a call?"

I nodded. "I'll try."

"Good girl."

I took my time getting into the car, buckling up, turning it on. As I started down the driveway, I kept glancing in the rearview mirror, watching Matthew wave and walk back to the house. The last thing I saw was Matthew scooping Tiramisu up into his arms and closing the door.

Then I was on my way.

The feeling of leaving one place you've loved and going to another place that is equally beloved is exquisite. There is a vague and pleasant sadness that comes from leaving behind a place where you've made good memories; but with it comes a profound and beautiful longing for the end of the road, for the destination, where you've already made so many wonderful memories and will surely make more. As I drove, I could only smile and keep going, wishing the speed limit allowed me to go faster. I wanted to go home so badly, I could've flown.

The only thing that soured the trip was the radio.

It was there, begging to be turned on. I loved listening to music in the car. Maybe I could never do that again. Really? Was this the end of road trip sing-alongs? Did this mark the close of a really good era of pop songs and favorite CD's? I sighed more than once, wishing I could just flip it on for a moment.

Then I'd remember what had happened the last time I'd been in the same room as a radio, and all temptation would be swept away.

/

I drove for ten straight hours. After that, I forced myself to take a break at a 24-hour gas station in some silent, off-the-map town. I found money in the change of clothes Sadie had given me—enough to cover a couple meals and maybe even a hotel room. I smiled. Even when she was several states away, Sadie reached me with kindness.

I stocked up on snacks and refilled the car's tank, then hit the road once more. It was already past midnight, but I wasn't at all tired. I only had an hour to go before I made it. And then, oh, then at last, I would be home. Just one hour.

It passed in the blink of an eye. I crested a hill and there it was.

Gotham City.

It was perfectly _gorgeous_. The moon was still shining, making the waves of Gotham Bay sparkle. There was snow, and there were lights, and the buildings were bright with life. Even the smoky, dingy underground looked wonderful, because it was home. _Home_. I had actually, finally made it, after months, after a day in Indiana, after an eleven-hour drive through the middle of the night.

I should've known it would all go wrong just when everything looked like it would turn out alright.

A car was coming down the road toward me. I ignored it; I'd passed so many cars already, I had long since given up being suspicious or worried. But something about this one felt… off. It was going just a little too fast, just a little too straight, and was just a little too close to the center line.

Then, in the split second that we passed each other, the suspicious car swerved straight toward me.

It almost hit me. If I hadn't been on edge already, I would've gotten the Beckhams' car totaled for sure. I could feel us collide, fender just touching fender, throwing my mad spin ever so slightly off. I had to maneuver wildly to keep from flipping.

Both cars skidded to a halt, facing each other from opposite sides of the road. The moment the car was still, I unbuckled and launched myself out into the frigid winter air. If that car had meant to hit me—and I was sure it had—then I probably didn't want to meet its driver.

Unfortunately, the driver very much wanted to meet me.

Before I could start sprinting toward Gotham, I heard the high-pitched whistling of a metal projectile. I ducked sideways just in time for a delicately crafted blade to pass a centimeter from my ear.

I knew that blade.

I turned, dread sinking my heart into the pit of my stomach. How did she find me? Was it my message—did it somehow fall into the wrong hands? Or had she known from the beginning I would come here?

Talia. My mentor for the last four months stood majestically on top of her vehicle, her hair flying in the wind, like a mockery of my shorn locks. But that wasn't what dragged the cry of pained despair from my throat.

In her arms hung a limp, bruised, and bleeding Jem.

"That's enough, Samantha!" Talia cried, holding a sword to my brother's throat. "You've played fugitive long enough. Surrender now, or Jeremiah Meyers dies."

The frustration, the helplessness, the indignant rage—it exploded in me. I screamed, not from fear, but from fury.

"What more do you want?!" I hollered. "I have killed for you! I finally did what you wanted! What more, what else could you possibly need from me?!"

Talia smiled, her eyes glittering cruelly. "We are your only true family, Samantha. We made you who you are. Return to us. Return home."

"No! Just stop it, okay, stop! I've had enough! I can't take choices, I can't do pretend bowing and scraping, and lies, and play acting, and just all of the—" I screamed again, words escaping me. I was so, so tired of the games, the spying, the layers and layers of falsehoods and disguises. No more. I couldn't. No more.

My hand reached into the car and pulled out the first thing it found: the snow scraper. But I held it like it was the most formidable weapon in my arsenal.

"You are going to put my brother down, right now, or so help me, I will kill again, and I will _enjoy it_."

Talia threw back her head and laughed. "Ah, I knew it was in you! That unfettered rage and fire I see in Jeremiah. Very well, then. Kill me! And prove to me that you are the warrior I knew you would become."

My hand shook. I could talk all I wanted, put on bravado and show, but I couldn't kill. I could _never_ become what Talia wanted me to be. But I had to save Jem. I couldn't let her kill him. The thing was, I had… well, I had a snow scraper. That was it; that, and my fists. But Talia would never let me get close enough to use either. She wasn't going to let me do anything but surrender. I needed… I needed…

I needed help.

I finally started to cry. I couldn't do it on my own. Not fight Talia, not save my brother, not any of it. I had only ever survived Ra's' madness because of Jem. Now I was going to lose him. I wasn't enough on my own.

I dropped to my knees, weeping. "Talia, please. If I ever meant anything more to you than just another trainee… please. _Please_."

Talia scoffed. "You disappoint me. Only the weak resort to groveling. Very well, if you wish your brother dead…"

"No!"

I was on my feet, running. Talia was too fast; I would never reach her in time. But if I could make any difference, if I could do even one little bit of good, I had to try. Please, Lord, not Jem. Not him. Not my brother, Lord, please.

 _BANG BANG._

I didn't understand what was happening. But I heard the gunshots—two exactly. And I saw Talia's sword jump unexpectedly away from Jem's throat. And then she gasped, and one knee buckled slightly.

It was exactly what I needed, though. In one movement, I had pushed Talia off the car one way, and pulled Jem toward me. He was in my arms, safe.

I fell on my back, rolled Jem to the ground, and sat up. My eyes searched for Talia. She was already up, climbing over the car, her sword raised, fire in her eyes. My hand closed around the snow scraper once again, and I brought it up, hardly believing it would be a suitable defense against a sword. But if Talia had taught me anything, it was that the person was the weapon, not the object.

And that's how I dueled Talia al Ghul with a snow scraper.

I could tell there was somebody else nearby—probably the person who had shot Talia and given me the advantage. But I was too busy to look. I had to keep Talia occupied. I had to wear her down, if that was possible.

Another gunshot, and Talia stumbled. I punched her in the jaw, and she fell back. With the scraper, I disarmed her, stole her sword, and pointed it in her face.

"Yield," I said.

Talia panted. "How can you ignore your potential? This is what you are meant to be!"

"I don't care. Get up now, and leave while you still can."

Talia paused, then started to smile. "Very well."

I saw her slip something small from a pouch at her waist. In a flash, Talia threw three tiny spheres at the car she had used to ram me. My eyes went wide as I realized what she was doing.

I chucked the sword aside and tried to dive for my brother. But before I could, I heard a voice say, "Get down!" Someone grabbed me and pulled me to the ground—still too far from Jem.

"No!"

 _THOOM!_

Talia's mini incendiaries blew up, making the car explode, as well. My rescuer pinned me to the ground, and I threw my arms over my head. The heat of the blast made the snow around us hiss and steam; I felt like I'd been pressed into an oven. Then, just as quickly as it happened, it was over. My eyes blinked open, trying to see through the smoke, searching for Jem, for Talia, for any sign that I wasn't too late.

My rescuer was tugging me away from the smoke cloud. But I had to know. I had to see—was he still there? Let me save him. Let him be alright…

The smoke cleared for a moment, in a breath of wind. And I saw the empty road stretch on before me.

Talia and Jem were both gone.

"No!" I kicked at my rescuer, tried to get to my feet. "No, no! Jem!"

"Hey, take it easy! Calm down."

I roared at the calmness, the emptiness of the space where my brother had been. I had _had_ him. He had been safe. "No!"

"Hey!" My rescuer grabbed my shoulders and flipped me around. "Calm…"

He froze, as did I. I couldn't see his face because of that stupid red helmet, but I knew he was gaping at me like a fish.

Jason.

We were silent for a full minute, Jason just sitting there silently, trying to comprehend my presence. Then, without a word, he pulled me into a fierce hug.

I wanted to be mad. He had kept me from saving my brother. He was the reason my hopes were dashed, the reason my brother would likely be dead soon. But I couldn't stay angry; not with him. It was Jason. Really, truly Jason. After all this time, after four months living under Ra's al Ghul's thumb, over twenty-four hours of being a fugitive, and an eleven-hour drive, I was finally here, in Gotham, with Jason. I had made it home.

I broke down crying. My arms curled around Jason, pulling him closer. I felt small, like a child, and just as weak and helpless. Jem was gone. Talia was gone. My courage, all of my fire and spirit, were gone. I was just… me. Sitting in the middle of the road in the snow, finally reunited with…

My family.

Family. Why that word? It was too confusing. Was Jason my family? Or was Jem? Or both? I couldn't tell. I had known Jem longer. But Jason was close to me. I knew a lot about him—and not just the shallow surface things, either. I knew what lived in his heart, what haunted him, what drove him. Wasn't that family?

He released me at last, holding me at arm's length, just looking at me. He laughed. "You cut your hair."

I managed a teary smile. "Yeah."

"It's… cute. I like it."

"Thanks."

He shook his head in astonishment. "I can't believe you're here…"

"Did you get my message?"

"Only just. It took Bruce two seconds to decipher it, and then he sent me out here to wait for you."

"I'm glad you came."

"Me, too." He stared off down the road. "Who was that guy? The guy you were trying to save?"

I faltered. "I'd… rather just tell everyone at once."

Jason shook his head. "I can't wait that long. You don't need to tell me everything. Just tell me what they did, and I'll make sure I include it in the list of things I'm gonna do to them the next time they show up."

" _I_ can wait. Besides, the manor's only a drive across town. You won't have to wait that long."

"Oh. I guess you wouldn't know."

"Know what?"

Jason reached up and removed his helmet, running a hand through his already messy hair. "Things back home have been a bit… strained. Alfred's been really depressed since you were taken, and after three months of living with him, Tim and Dick decided to leave."

I clenched my fists. "Because of Alfred?"

"No, no, don't take it that way. It's just… they needed a little time away, that's all."

I frowned down at the road. I wasn't satisfied.

"Anyway," Jason rushed on, "they've been away for a month now. They'll probably be fairly settled. So getting them back might take a while."

I nodded. "Where did they go?"

"Well, Tim went to hang out with the Teen Titans. Last I checked, they were just at the Tower, over in Jump City. And Dick went to Chicago to help out an old friend."

My heart stopped.

Dick had been in Chicago. He had been there when I…

This was bad. I could feel the color draining from my face. Dick would know. The moment someone found out about the man I killed, Dick would show up at the crime scene. I remembered now; I had dropped the knife, left it behind in the room. Stupid, _stupid_ Sam! He would find it, find my fingerprints, know it was me. Know that I've…

"Sam?" Jason grabbed my shoulder. "Sam, what's wrong?"

I shook my head. I couldn't tell Jason. He would never be able to forgive me. He wouldn't understand…

Wait.

Jason Todd? The man who had been a killer of his own? The man who had been resurrected by Talia al Ghul herself?

No one would understand better than him.

"Jason," I said. "There actually is something I need to tell you."

/

Dick Grayson loved Chicago.

Not only did it have a plethora of tall buildings from which to swing, it was brightly lit, full of life, and practically devoid of super criminals. It was a breath of fresh air after Gotham's constant cloud of doom and gloom.

That, and… Alfred.

He hated to admit it, but seeing Alfred so dejected and hopeless had started to make Dick feel awkward. He didn't know how to treat this strange new Alfred. The beloved butler had always been the one doing the comforting; he was supposed to be dependable, constant, unshakeable. After three months of living with what felt like a total stranger, Dick couldn't stand it anymore. With a hurried excuse and a lot of guilt, he had rushed across the country to Chicago, where a friend of a friend had set him up with a good apartment and a good job right away. It was honestly kind of nice to be independent and self-sufficient. No more living off the billionaire salary; Dick was making his own money, with his own hands. It felt good.

And there hadn't been much crime to fight, either, so his life had been pretty peaceful for a whole month. November had sped past, and December was on the horizon. Soon enough, he would have to start thinking about Christmas, and whether he had the courage to go back to Gotham for the holidays. But he wasn't there yet. He still had several weeks of freedom. And he was going to live them to the fullest!

Unfortunately, last night, he had been listening to the police scanner. Dick didn't expect there to be many real emergencies—at least, not ones that required superhero help, as Chicago's first responders were actually quite good—but he listened to the scanner every night anyway. And last night… well, there had been a big one.

A window broken on the twelfth floor of a twenty-story apartment complex. Out, not in, but there was no suicide jumper. People on the street below reported sightings of a person swinging from a grappling line.

And the man who lived in the apartment? Dead. Stabbed in the throat by a knife which the murderer had left carelessly and conspicuously on the floor.

The moment Dick heard it, he pulled his costume from its secret corner in the closet and rushed to the apartment. There were already cops swarming the place; Dick worried they would try to kick him out. To his surprise, however, he was given clearance and full access. He was confused for only a moment, though. The police chief caught his eye, and the look on her face said it all. Girls will do anything for a celebrity crush.

Dick quickly gathered as much evidence as he could. The man's name was John Faise. He didn't appear to have any family that he was close to, judging by the lack of pictures around his apartment. There was also no real evidence as to what might goad someone into murdering him. In terms of more concrete evidence, the stab wound and the knife matched, though Dick would run tests on the blood to make sure it wasn't planted in the room somehow. He would also check for fingerprints and DNA samples—anything to get him closer to a suspect. A murder like this had to point to something bigger.

Dick got permission to take the knife with him, then soared back to his own apartment. He had, of course, turned the second bedroom into a secret lair—it absolutely and necessarily had to be called a secret lair—and had stashed it full of fun stuff like forensics equipment and a state-of-the-art computer system. He put the knife and Faise's blood into the system and let it run while he took a long nap.

So it was that the next morning, he stood before the computer in shock, disbelief, and horror, staring at the test results. This had to be some sick joke. The knife had clearly been planted.

Because the computer was saying the DNA and fingerprints on the hilt were those of one Samantha Meyers.

Dick sat down in his chair and rubbed his eyes. It couldn't be true. Something had gone wrong with the tests. Or, worse, Ra's had found a way into his system and was playing a really sick prank on him. Maybe Ra's had even set up the murder himself, and sent a fake murder weapon with the real assassin so it looked like Sam had done it, when, in all actuality, she was still locked up in a dungeon somewhere experiencing brutal torture, like Dick had assumed she would be. Like she surely would be. It was Ra's al Ghul. He did stuff like that.

But Dick couldn't shake the feeling that the readings were correct.

The last resource he had was the camera footage. Dick had tried hacking it last night, to no avail. But something had been off; it looked less like the cameras had been turned off or hacked during the hour of the crime, and more like the footage had been erased afterward. There wasn't a blurry gap or an inexplicable recap of five minutes before. It just blipped from before the guy was dead, to after, when the window was missing.

So Dick picked up the phone.

"Hey, Tim," he said. "Long time no talk! Hey, listen, I've got a favor to ask."

Tim chuckled from the other end of the line. "No time to just say hi? What's your favor?"

"Uh, I need help hacking some cameras…"

"Dude, that's detective 101. When did you forget that?"

"No, I mean, I did hack them, but it's all wrong. The footage I need, it's been… deleted somehow. I need you to get it back for me."

Tim paused. "Alright. Are we doing this through the phone, or am I coming over?"

"Depends. Are you busy?"

"Not really. We're just hanging around the Tower at the moment. I can be there in an hour."

"You're the best, Tim."

"I know."

Tim hung up, leaving Dick with an hour to kill. It was a Saturday, his day off work, so he decided to waste time by video chatting Barbara. She was the thing he missed most about Gotham; she had been there for him after Samantha was kidnapped, and they had started hanging out even more in her absence. Now, they could only communicate through the cold vibrance of their computer screens. If only Dick could tell her that he had been so, so close to asking her out on a real date before he left. Now, it was too late. Maybe he would try over the holidays, if he could work up the guts to go back to Gotham. And to, you know… actually ask her out.

Dick beamed when her face appeared on his screen. "Hey, Babs! How's it going?"

"Great!" she said. "What about you?"

Dick hesitated. "Pretty good. I actually have a case."

"You do? What is it? Maybe I can help."

"Uh, I don't know. It's… pretty straightforward. I think I can handle it."

Barbara frowned at him. "Richard Grayson, I can tell when you're lying."

Dick sighed. "Sorry. It's just a little complicated…"

"Which happens to be the _opposite_ of straightforward, but continue."

Dick smiled. "Yeah. Look, it's not… important. What's important is, how are things back home?" His voice lowered. "Have you been to the Manor recently at all?"

With a nod, Barbara said, "Yeah. I visited a couple days ago. I had to return a book Bruce let me borrow." She gave Dick an understanding smile. "Alfred's still doing okay. He's sad, but he's… hanging in there."

"Good. I just… worry, you know? He's so… well…"

"Old?"

"Sh, don't say it out loud!"

Barbara laughed.

"Yeah, but in all seriousness… he's getting up there," Dick continued. "I just don't want all this to do any serious damage."

"Don't you worry about it. We're all keeping a close eye on him over here. You just worry about yourself, okay, Dick?"

"Roger that."

"Good boy." Barbara turned and looked over her shoulder. "It's 7:50. I have to head out soon. I'm meeting a friend downtown for some girl time."

"Sounds nice. Have fun!"

"Okay. I'll talk to you later?"

"Yeah, later."

"Cool. Bye!"

"Bye."

Dick sighed as Barbara closed her chat window. He really missed her—the real her, not this backlit apparition.

He was saved from doldrums by a knock on the door. Dick jumped up and answered it, to find Tim standing nonchalantly outside.

"That was quick. What'd you take?"

"Plane," Tim said vaguely, following his brother into the apartment. He looked around and whistled. "This is a pretty nice place. I should visit more often."

"It's just a rental." Dick led him to the second bedroom. "But it has its perks."

Dick opened the door, waiting for Tim's jaw to drop. Instead, Tim glanced at Dick's equipment and pursed his lips.

"Is this all you could get?"

Dick feigned shock. "Excuse you, Mr. Tech-Savvy, I paid good money for this stuff. Don't diss the operation."

"You should print that on a t-shirt." Tim walked right in and sat himself in the chair. "Alright, what are we looking at?"

Dick smiled. "What, no time to just say hi?"

Laughing, Tim swiveled around. "Fair point. Hi, Dick. How's Chicago?"

"Chicago's great! Cold. Windy. But great."

"That's the Midwest for you. Alright, back to business—where's the footage?"

Dick maneuvered his way back to the cameras in Faise's apartment, filling Tim in on the case so far as he went. He did, however, leave out the bit about Sam's DNA. All he needed was to get the erased footage back, and he could let Tim go, free and unburdened.

Unfortunately, it was not to be.

Tim squinted and set about recovering the lost footage. "Okay. Well, if someone tried to erase the footage, that means that somewhere down the line, they had to select the area and actually cut it, which means they had to be in the system both before and after the missing footage."

"Oh, yeah… that makes sense."

"And if they were in there, we can potentially figure out who it was and hack _them_ , which would give us access to what they had, and possibly a chance to recover whatever files they deleted."

"Cool. So can you…?"

"Yup. Already did it. It's… weird, though. The signal I traced, it doesn't seem to lead to any physical place. It's just a dead current."

"But can you find the—"

"Give me a second, I'm getting there. Let's see, that looks like… ok, date… times… there. I think I've got it."

Tim hit the spacebar triumphantly, and a video began to play. It picked up seamlessly where the camera footage cut out. Dick watched, wide-eyed and wary, as someone snuck silently into Mr. Faise's room.

It was a ninja.

"Ra's again," Tim whispered. "That could actually be the female assassin from Uqmahl. Hold on, I'll cross-reference it."

Tim started working calmly, but Dick's heart was pounding in his ears. The circle was closing too fast. He had been unpleasantly suspicious before. He had managed to write it off, but hadn't he wondered once whether that female assassin could be Samantha? And now, here was her DNA, her fingerprints, all over a knife that had just killed a man in his sleep.

It couldn't be.

Dick gripped the back of Tim's chair as he watched. The ninja girl raised her hand to her sash, probably feeling for a hidden knife. But then, for some reason, her hand dropped to her side again. Dick blinked. If this _was_ Samantha—if, _big_ if—then she didn't seem to want to kill John Faise. But then, how and why was he dead?

The girl stood there, unmoving, for a long pause. Then, out of the blue, she walked forward, perfectly calm, slid the knife from her sash, and…

Dick closed his eyes. He had seen death before, but he couldn't watch now. Maybe out of respect for the dead. Maybe out of fear. Maybe because that could be his friend holding the knife.

"Huh," Tim said. "Why did…?"

Dick opened his eyes again. Now the girl was standing on the opposite side of the bed. She was standing stock still, tense as a bowstring. Then, out of the blue, she started to freak. She clutched her head, bent over, breathing hard. She reached for her knife again and raised it over her own hand, but she quickly lost her nerve. She fell to her knees and dropped the knife; it landed in the exact position in which Dick had found it the night before. A moment of intense emotion passed; then the girl climbed to her feet and staggered toward the window, pulled a small grappling gun from the folds of her tunic. She shot it through the window, shattering it, and followed the line out of the room. Dick winced as he saw her cut herself on the broken glass. The file played for a minute longer, but there was no need to watch anymore. The camera footage he had found picked up in the same place.

"What happened?" Dick asked. "I missed something, go back. How did she get on the other side of the bed?"

Tim quickly rewound the footage. Dick stared as the girl wiped her blade on her tunic, then froze in place, as if listening. With the same easy gait as before, she walked calmly around to the other side of the bed and… did something to the radio?

"Is there sound?" Dick asked.

"Should be. Here… yeah."

The sound turned on just in time for the girl to raise her knife again, and Dick heard something like a cry of anguish mixed with a scream of rage rip itself from her throat. He winced in pain. Please, this couldn't be Samantha…

"Rewind it again. Go to that moment, before…"

"Yeah, I know." Tim went back to the minute of silence, when the girl was still deciding what to do. Then, just before she walked forward and drew her knife…

The radio started playing.

Dick shook his head in disbelief. It was too much of a coincidence. The girl was completely unsure and obviously terrified, but the moment the music turned on, her body relaxed, and she moved with absolute surety and confidence, as if killing were as simple and natural as making a cup of coffee. It actually made Dick feel a bit ill.

"Turn it off."

Tim obliged. He turned in his chair to stare at Dick, who was definitely feeling queasy now. "Alright, what's the real problem here? You're acting like you've never seen a murder before."

Dick shook his head. He couldn't tell Tim. It was too much… no, no, it had to be a trick, it was false.

But then… Tim hadn't found a definite place from which the file could have come. And they had covered every inch of the planet searching for Sam. If Ra's was hiding in some non-place, it would explain…

No. Not possible. Sam didn't kill. She wasn't even a fighter. She was a civilian, simple, plain, ordinary, and not a killer. Not a killer at all.

But if Ra's had forced her…

No.

But it could…

No! She didn't do it!

It would explain everything…

"No!"

Tim jumped hard, staring at his brother. "Dick, talk to me. What's going on?"

Dick covered his face with his hands. He couldn't… not now. No, he couldn't tell Tim. Not even if it made sense. And it didn't. It didn't make sense.

Why would Sam kill?

"Dick! What is going on?!"

With a cry of rage, Dick slammed his fist into the table, jostling his equipment and causing the knife to fall from its holder with a loud clatter.

Tim gaped. "Okay, you're, like, Jason-level scaring me right now. Dick, please, tell me what's going on. I can help you."

"You're smart enough, you figure it out!"

Tim gave Dick one more nervous glance, then turned to pick up the knife. One of the scanners caught his eye. "You did a fingerprint test, right?"

Dick didn't have the heart to nod. He took Tim's seat and buried his face in his hands.

Tim fiddled with the scanner for only a moment. Then, the room plunged into intense silence. Dick heard Tim turn around, could sense his look of terrified disbelief.

"That's… not possible."

Dick just shook his head.

"It's not possible," Tim said desperately. "It was planted."

Dick pointed to the video footage, which was still up on the computer screen. "I found it exactly how she dropped it at the end of the video."

Tim glanced at the computer, then the knife, then the scanner. Finally, he fixed Dick with a look that was frightened, angry, nervous… and unsure.

"Not her," Tim whispered. "She doesn't kill."

Dick's hand moved to his mouth, shutting in all the words he wanted to scream at the universe, this cruel universe that could turn innocent young girls into killers.

"She might," he whispered.

"Dick…"

"Depending on what Ra's did to her," he said, voice shaking with rage, "she might."

Tim looked again at the knife. "We should… tell home."

"No."

"Dick, this is important—"

"Not yet! We can't confirm it, so we don't spread it."

Dick waited as Tim thought. Finally, Tim's face hardened.

"Alright. We don't tell. Yet."


	9. Chapter 8: What I Have Done

**Chapter 8 - What I Have Done**

Dick and Tim sat across from each other on separate couches, a coffee table between. They were silent. Tim had spent another hour running test after test. His conclusion: all evidence pointed to Sam as the killer.

Dick hardly glanced at the pizza Tim thought to order. Sam couldn't be an assassin. Not for Ra's. They'd taught her about every major villain back when she was in computer training. She should know that Ra's al Ghul was bad news—and all she had to do was ask his grandson. She should know better. She shouldn't be working for him.

But that didn't mean she couldn't be. What if she didn't have a choice? What if Ra's was twisting her arm, threatening her… hurting her? Dick had no way of knowing, no way of getting to her, helping her, saving her. They had searched every possible location. There wasn't an inch of the planet that hadn't been scoured by some Justice League member, Teen Titan, Batfamily secret contact, or other. There was no trace of Ra's or Talia—no trace of Sam. So how could she be here, in Chicago, only last night? And… killing?

"That's it."

Dick looked up as Tim slammed his mug onto the coffee table. He was livid.

"I get that you're upset," Tim yelled. "I get that this is… wrong, and weird, and really, really disturbing, but I don't want to sit here with a dead and silent Dick. You're the worst when you do this."

Dick furrowed his brow. "I'm sorry. I just… don't know how to…" He sighed and ran a hand over his face. "I feel like I don't know _anything_ anymore, not for certain."

"Yes, you do."

Dick leaned his head back and snorted. "Enlighten me."

"You know Sam's alive. That's something, Dick, that's important."

"We don't know that until we _see it_."

"I thought you weren't the cynical one. Okay… well, you know…"

"Just stop it, Tim. She did it. She did it, and now I can't expect anything to stay the same."

"You're being stupid," Tim pressed. "This is Sam we're talking about! The physical proof says she did it…"

" _All_ the proof says she did it."

"Yeah, I know. I've been staring at it, too. Doesn't mean we have to believe it. And it definitely doesn't mean we ought to doubt her."

"I never did," Dick muttered, staring out the window.

"Good. You're a believer, Dick; just believe in her, and let it go. Who knows? Maybe this will help us find her. We have some of her DNA; we might be able to trace it."

"Like that's worked before. We tried that right away, remember?"

"I do… but this is recent."

"Stop doing that!" Dick shouted, his hands shaking with rage. "Stop pretending this is a good thing! None of this is good; none of this is going to help us. All it's done is _ruin_ every belief I had that Samantha, whatever Ra's did to her, would stay _Sam_!"

Tim stared darkly at his mug. "Give her some grace. She's been gone for months. We don't know what she's been through."

Dick opened his mouth to protest, then closed it again. He knew he had something to say; he knew there was a point he was trying to make. But what was it? What about all of this was so… wrong?

"She needs to be good."

"...huh?"

Dick sat forward, working desperately to put his thoughts into words. "Sam… _needs_ to be good. In her heart, and mind, all of it. She can't be an assassin, that's not who she is. If she comes back… I don't want another Jason or Damian. I need her to be _Samantha_."

Tim's shoulders slumped. His eyes showed that he understood. "I know. I wish we could get her back and have her just like she was."

Dick waited. "Is there a 'but' in there?"

Tim fixed his eyes on his brother. "Yes."

They stared at each other, wishing they had something more to say. But there was nothing left. The sun set, Tim decided to stay the night, and they went to bed. That was all.

/

The story of my sin took an hour to tell.

I stuttered along, doing my best to explain myself without telling him everything just yet. But then I realized that, to give him the most accurate version of what had happened in Chicago, I had to tell him about what had happened over the entirety of the past four months. And that's why we sat there for so long, on the side of the road, in the snow. Because I decided that I wanted to tell Jason _everything._

Through all of it, Jason was silent. I was too terrified to watch his face, so if he reacted in any way to what I told him, I didn't notice. I wondered, a half hour in, whether he had fallen asleep. But I didn't dare to look.

So I kept my eyes fixed on the ground, and talked. I told him about Talia's healing concoction, and how it revived me. I told him everything I knew about the chip, including that it had been the cause of my attacks, and now gave me superhuman abilities. I told him about Jem, my long-lost brother, not dead, but an assassin; I talked about him for a good chunk of time, trying to describe him without painting a bad picture. I talked about my training, my new abilities, human and beyond, and about Ra's' decision to use me as an operative. And all of this brought me back to the story of the murder of John Faise.

I don't remember how I told it; I just remember how I felt. At first, I was reluctant, bordering on panicked. I couldn't tell this to someone I loved. Then, as I started to talk, I felt strangely calm. The words were just words. I told the first part—getting into the building, avoiding the guards, entering the apartment—without trouble. But when I got into the thick of it, I started stuttering. My heart pounded, and I kept seeing _that_ image in my brain; each time it came back, my breath caught, and I felt the most profound and hideous terror.

Strangely enough, it was Jason's silence that helped me get through the whole thing. I could almost imagine I was alone, instead of incriminating myself in the eyes of one of my only friends.

And then I was done, and I just sat in the middle of the road, too empty to cry.

When I worked up enough courage, I spared a glance at Jason's face. He was looking at me with this soft, strange look and a half smile. I wondered what in my story could make him look at me like _that_.

"I guess we're not so different now, are we?"

I blinked, startled. That's what he took away from my awful, terrible tale?

Jason caught my bewildered look. "I'm sorry, it's just… you realize we've been here before, right? Except, the other way around."

My memory flashed back to a dark closet and a whispered confession. Jason was wrong, though; it wasn't the same. I had been able to distance myself from his story.

Jason reached out and put a hand on my shoulder. "Sam. I'm so, so sorry. You should never have had to go through that. And that includes what you did. I swear to you, honestly, that wasn't you doing that. It was Ra's, controlling you. Okay? So don't beat yourself up about it."

I shook my head. "It was too easy. Maybe I wanted to do it. I can't trust myself."

"No, you're the first person you can trust. I want you to tell me, right now, without thinking about it: did you enjoy killing John Faise?"

I shuddered. "No."

"Then you're not a killer. Case closed. Sam, of all the people I've met in this business, you are the least likely to become a killer. And it's not because you have nothing to be angry about, no one to avenge, no, it's because you are _good_. I've met so few people like that."

"I try to tell myself that, but it was still _me_. That was _my_ hand… my body. My own thoughts, even."

"But induced by a technological bug planted in your brain by a maniac. I will admit, it could take a while for all of this to go away. Maybe it never will. But it gets so much better if you learn to forgive yourself."

I glanced up. "Did you?"

Jason bowed his head. "I'm not sure. But… you helped, you know."

"What, with a talk in a closet?"

"With being… being a friend." Jason's hands fidgeted. "When people learn you've killed, they… react, they _judge_. It's hard not to get cynical; you start expecting people to hate you for what you did. You expect them to assume that that's what you are. But you… didn't. I guess you knew me well enough already to know that…"

"The you of the past doesn't have to define the you of the present."

"Exactly! And that's what you need to know. Because even if you've killed, and only once, I might add, you don't have to let that consume you. You can become the sort of person you'd be proud of, even if you aren't proud of who you were before."

I stared at the pavement. I wished I could believe that. I wished I could let the whole episode go, like some redacted chapter of my life, and be the Samantha I was before. But no matter what Jason said, I knew I could never forgive myself. Heck, five months ago, I wouldn't have _dreamed_ I would ever hurt anyone, let alone kill them. Who was that innocent little sprite? Because whoever she had been, she died on a training mat in Ra's al Ghul's basement.

Jason pulled me into a one-armed hug, then got to his feet. "Sun won't be up for a while still, so the Bat and the brat should still be patrolling. But… if you want, I could call an emergency meeting."

A wave of longing washed over me. How I wanted to see everyone again! And… I didn't have to tell _them_ right away. Jason knew now, but Bruce didn't have to. I wouldn't have to disappoint him for a good long while. I could see him, and Damian, and _Alfred…_

I could finally go home.

"What do you think, Sam? You wanna go back to the Cave?"

I stood up. "Actually, can we go to the Manor first?"

Jason's eyes twinkled. "Alfred."

I nodded, the emptiness starting to fill again. I was finally going to see Alfred. I couldn't wait.

"I'll drive," Jason said, walking to the Beckhams' car. I waited a moment, trying to compose myself, then stood and followed. As soon as I had buckled into the passenger seat, Jason turned the key in the ignition and zoomed out onto the road. I sucked in a breath as we sped toward Gotham, and felt something like happiness start to soak into my bones.

Then we drove into the city.

The moment the car rolled past the first alleyway, men in bulky black leather jackets and Scream masks started streaming from every building, every street. In an instant, they had blocked the road. Jason hit the brakes, his face turning dark. He tried to back up, but they had blocked us from behind, as well.

Jason sighed. "Great."

"What's going on?" I demanded. "Who are these guys?"

"The Fright Brigade," he said, quickly snatching up his helmet and fitting it on his head. "I thought we sent them underground a month ago."

One man stepped out of the throng. His mask was painted specially with vivid red streaks.

"I've been waiting for you, Red Hood!"

"They know you?" I asked.

"Uh… yeah. I may have busted the arms dealership they bought from. And then found their hideout and landed half of them in cells. So… they don't like me much."

"You said _'we'_ sent them underground. You're talking about Batman right? Why aren't they mad at him?"

"They are, but since I did all the dirty work, they've decided I'm the one they've gotta kill."

I jumped as the leader banged on the hood of the Beckhams' car. "Hey! You and your girlfriend done chit-chatting, Hood?"

Jason slowly opened the passenger side door. "Stay here, Sam."

"Jason, there's at least fifty of them!"

"Yeah, well, that's half of what they used to be. I can handle them…"

The car rocked suddenly as the leader climbed over the top. Before I could do anything, he had grabbed Jason's jacket and thrown him out onto the street. The leader jumped to the ground, blocking my line of sight.

"I've been hard at work while I was gone, Hood," he said. "Getting stronger. Building the boys back up. And you're gonna get a good look, up close and personal, at the finished product."

"Get 'im, Sarge!"

I gripped the sides of my seat. Jason was in trouble. No matter how much he puffed and preened, he was no match for fifty guys, especially if they were all as big as Sarge. I winced as I heard blows start to fall. This wasn't going to end well.

Unless…

My eyes flicked to the car radio. A shudder ran up my spine. No; no, I wasn't going to do it. I had kept my new rule: no more music, ever again. No way was I breaking that rule now.

Jason tried to land a shot on Sarge with his gun. The big man stumbled back, clutching his arm. Then he realized he wasn't bleeding.

"Ha! Rubber bullets? What, you got no guts, man?"

The Fright Brigade laughed and jeered from their safely distanced circle. Then Sarge barreled toward Jason, who started frantically shooting round after round. But Sarge just raised one unbelievably meaty arm and took every shot, hardly giving the rubber bullets a wince.

And then he slammed Jason into the hood of the car.

I winced as Jason got slowly back up. I could tell something was hurt; he was huddled over his middle protectively. But he kept going back in. He managed to dodge some blows, deflect others; most of the time, he went flying across the circle. But he didn't ever stay down.

I could do something. I had the power to help. So why was I staying down?

Then I saw Sarge slam Jason's head into the pavement. He hit so hard, Jason's helmet cracked open. I could hear his cry from inside the car.

Rules be darned. Jason mattered more than my own fear. I was terrified; my heart was pounding so hard, I worried it would count as a drumbeat. But, finger by finger, I managed to pry my hands from the seat. I could do this. If Jason could stand time after time, I could handle my power for one fight.

I glared at the radio. "You behave. Got it? None of that stupid mind control stuff. You hear?"

My shaking hand reached for the dial. And then, before I could back out, I turned the radio on.

Luck was on my side. The first thing to come on was some upbeat pop song—I'd never heard it before—and the rhythm was _perfect_. My whole being begged me to get up and move. My chip had kicked in; it was time to fight.

I turned the radio up to full volume and stepped out of the car.

Silence fell as the boom of the stereo filled our little corner of Gotham. Sarge narrowed his eyes at me as he flung Jason aside.

"You wanna fight, girly?"

I cocked my head. He was big. This was going to be a dodge-and-weave sort of fight; use his weight against him, make the most of momentum, and don't get hit.

"This isn't going to be a fight," I said, smirking. "We're gonna dance."

And dance I did. I rushed at Sarge and I danced him so hard, he planted himself face-first into the road. He came up with a missing tooth and a bloody nose. He came at me again, and I danced him into his friends, knocking them down like bowling pins.

It was then that I realized they had guns. This was going to be a much different kind of dance.

Sarge's buddies swarmed me. It was tricky to dance with so many partners, but when you're leading, anything is possible. I flung them over my shoulders like flour sacks, knocked their feet out from under them, made their heads spin with shallow blows. I was a hurricane of movement, and I loved it.

The guns were a little harder to handle. Only about half of them had one, but they were proficient, to say the least. The fight only lasted as long as it did because I had to leave some of my partners and dodge. But I never let one bullet touch me. I did let the occasional shot hit one of my opponents; if they wanted to take out their own friends for me, who was I to get in the way?

I blew through them with ease. Not one of them got close enough to get in a punch, hardly even a swing. I felt as though I'd barely started when there were only a couple left standing. They stood awkwardly with their fists up—typical scared bad guys. I grinned and took a step forward. They took off running.

Oh, no way were they getting away. I hadn't studied under Talia al Ghul for nothing. I lifted my foot to run.

 _Click_.

The music stopped, abruptly, and my leg wobbled as it touched earth. The radio had been turned off. I blinked and felt awareness returning. I was standing in the middle of a heap of bodies. And there was… a lot of blood.

My hand rose to my mouth. I had done it again. I had done it… Were they dead? Was anyone dead? I started frantically checking pulses, in my mind certain someone was dead, someone had been killed, and it was my fault, _my fault_ …

"Sam?"

Jason. I turned to see him getting out of the car, a wary expression on his face.

I looked down at the wrist I was holding. I could feel his heart beating through my fingers. His lifeblood… what had I done?

"I… I just wanted to…" I turned to Jason helplessly.

Jason just stared at me. "That was the chip, right? That's why you had the music on?"

I nodded.

Jason leaned on the car, almost for support. Then, almost too faintly to hear, he muttered, "What did they do to you?"

I felt a sting behind my eyes. He was disappointed. Worse; he was scared. My knees buckled, and I hit the ground hard, tears starting in my eyes. It didn't even matter if I'd killed somebody again. Jason was scared of me. The world had ended.

"Hey." Jason rushed over and knelt beside me. "Hey, it's okay. It's alright."

"It's not," I cried. "I wasn't going to do it again. I said I would never do it again!"

"You didn't kill anyone."

"I did, Jason, you saw it. Just look at it!"

"No, you didn't! Hey… look at me." Jason held my head and forced me to look into his eyes. "I was watching very closely. You never hit anyone hard enough to hurt them, let alone kill them. And those guys that got shot? They're all wearing bulletproof vests. These guys are idiots, but they're professional idiots. They know not to shoot wild. Nobody got hit hard enough to be killed. Got it? Nobody's dead."

I shuddered in breath after breath, trying to understand. "Nobody…?"

"That's right. Nobody got killed. You're fine."

I lost control. My vision blurred and my voice screamed, "I can't do this again!"

Jason pulled me close, wrapping his arms so tight around me I couldn't move if I tried. I didn't care. I needed to be held back. I had to be restrained. Being restrained by a friend was just a lucky break. And it gave me the chance to cry all my bitter, choking tears without him seeing.

Minutes passed, and I finally managed to get a grip. I wiped away my tears as Jason relaxed his hold. I looked up in time to notice his pained wince.

"Where'd he get you?"

He shrugged. "Meh… maybe my ribs… or my stomach… twice. I've had worse."

"Let's get back to the Manor. Can you walk?"

"I'm fine," he said.

But I still had to help him into the car, slowly. I ended up behind the wheel, too tired to drive yet. So I turned to Jason.

"You wanna talk worse, I got rug burn all up one leg the first time I tried sliding under one of Talia's attacks."

Jason raised his eyebrows. "Oh, we're doing comparisons now? Okay, then… double concussion. Got a second while healing from the first."

"Both shoulders dislocated after a particularly strenuous ropes course."

"Gunshot to the leg, twice."

"Does almost dying from cardiac arrest count?"

"Uh, I _actually_ died."

"Yeah, okay, you win."

We looked at each other. Then, unexpectedly, I started to laugh. Jason laughed, too. I wasn't sure I should be laughing, after what I'd done, but I couldn't stop. It felt too good.

When we finally calmed down, Jason sighed. "I missed you."

"You, too."

"We should go home."

I nodded once. "Agreed."

I started up the engine, and we flew through Gotham City, the wind from the open doorway shoving my breath deeper into my lungs. As my hair whipped around my face, I felt certain that this time, I was going to make it. No pauses, no roadblocks, and no more fighting.

Samantha Meyers was coming home.

/

Alfred sat in a chair he had dragged quickly from another room so he could sit directly across from the front doorway. He had no reason to believe she would come that way, but something just told him to be there.

It had been four months since his little girl had been suddenly abducted by one of Batman's greatest enemies. Alfred had been broken ever since. He couldn't focus on anything; his cooking had become little better than the mush served up in high school cafeterias. He hadn't had the energy to brew tea. He had started neglecting his duties around the manor, and devoting more time to sitting in front of the computer in the Batcave, searching, not just for Samantha, but for anything interesting that could take his mind off the pain. He ended up helping Batman clear out three gangs, one of them the Fright Brigade, and stop sixteen criminal empires before they'd even surfaced as a threat. Alfred had lost several weeks of sleep and was showing clear signs of cybersickness by the time Tim finally kicked him out of his chair and took back his place at the keyboard. Still, Alfred would wander down to the cave for hours, under the pretense of bringing food or reminding Bruce of urgent meetings scheduled the next day. Batman became his defense against despair; he threw everything he had into keeping his boys safe in the field, making sure they were well rested and fed, that every system was updated and security measures were up to code.

And then came that incredible, beautiful night when a customer service message appeared in Bruce's inbox.

Alfred had been - once again - dusting around the cave, when Bruce came streaming down the stairs, phone in hand. He gabbled something at Alfred.

"Sorry, sir?"

Bruce just shoved the phone at his butler, a stunned grin spreading across his face. Alfred frowned and looked at the message Bruce had up on his screen.

 _Dear Wayne Enterprises: I would like to inform you that a piece of missing tech has found its way into my possession. I will be returning it to you within twenty-four hours. Please ask Mr. Wayne to give his butler regards from Meadowlark._

 _S._

Alfred didn't need an explanation. He knew what it meant. He had nearly collapsed with relief. Samantha was alive, and better yet, she was coming home! He and Bruce passed on the news to Jason and Damian, who both reacted with unbridled joy—an unexpected moment of freedom, sharing in the emotion of the moment with no holds barred.

Jason had been sent out to wait for Samantha. With two boys missing, Bruce and Damian had to pick up the slack and go on patrol. This left the computer open. But Alfred had felt that his place was not in the cave. He had to be at the front door, like a good butler, waiting for a long-expected guest. He took a com link, just in case, and rushed upstairs, trying to make himself presentable as he went.

He had been waiting for hours.

Alfred could feel his patience waning. No matter how much he wanted to be agreeable, alert, and ready when Samantha arrived, he was starting to get tired of waiting. Still, he couldn't get up. If he left, Samantha might come, and she'd have no one to greet her.

He tentatively put the com link to his ear. "Penny One, calling Batman?"

Batman responded almost immediately. _Is she home?_

"Not yet, sir. Is there anything you…?"

His voice faltered and fell. Alfred stared at the window.

A light had just flashed past. Headlights.

 _Alfred?_ Batman called through the com. _You still there?_

Alfred rushed to the window and stared out. There was a strange car in the driveway, just coming to a halt. There were two people in the front seat.

One of them was Jason. So the other had to be…

 _Alfred?_

"She's here," Alfred said, softly, hardly daring to believe it. "She's here, sir."

 _She's back,_ Alfred heard Batman repeat.

Robin's voice came from the background: _Then for pity's sake, turn this car around and let's get back!_

 _We're coming home, Alfred._

Alfred didn't need a word more. He threw the com link down the hall and rushed to the door. He undid the lock and threw it wide.

And there she was.

She was just getting out of the car, turning glittering, wondering eyes upon the manor. Her hair was cut short, right to her jawline. She looked older, stronger, wilder. But it was her. Those were her eyes, finally falling upon the brightly lit doorway. That was her smile, creeping up into her rosy cheeks.

That was Alfred's Samantha, running toward him, home at last.


	10. Chapter 9: Did You Miss Me?

**Chapter 9 - Did You Miss Me?**

The next morning, Dick woke up to sunshine and snow. He could tell by the hideous noise outside that morning traffic was worse than usual, thanks to icy roads and foolish drivers.

It took him a moment to remember why Tim was sleeping on his couch, but he took it in stride and brewed extra coffee. He couldn't stop staring at his little brother, so peaceful in his sleep, as if the drama of yesterday had never happened. Dick realized after a moment that this was a rare sight—Tim asleep, of his own volition. It made him chuckle, and that felt good.

Tim finally got up around eight, already lamenting how late he had slept and claiming he had things to do.

"What things?" Dick asked.

"Keep checking," Tim said, pouring himself a mug of coffee and downing it in three long gulps. "I want to run everything again. Fresh eyes might catch something we missed last night."

Dick felt his balloon swiftly deflating. "Tim, can't we just drop all that? We know it's the truth. We have to accept that."

"Says the man who had a nervous breakdown last night. I just want to check. We've missed things before."

"Yeah, but not this." Dick stared down into the black depths of his mug. "I can feel it. We're right on this one."

Tim didn't respond, and the apartment went quiet. Dick sighed. He wished he had something more to do, to say… Tim was here. How often did they get time together?

"Look, Tim… why don't we take the day off? It is Sunday, after all, so I don't have to work…"

"Dude, what kind of a job do you have where you don't work weekends?"

Dick smiled. "I, uh… I'm a receptionist at a spa."

Tim blinked, with a look that bordered on horror. "Seriously?! That's how you're making those big bucks you keep telling me about? A spa?!"

"It's high end, gets a lot of important customers. And they had flexible hours. I needed that to be Nightwing."

"Not to mention you must bring the ladies in in droves."

"Shut up."

"Dick 'Kiss-me-I'm-single' Grayson, working a desk job at a fancy spa? Yeah, that sounds about right."

"Dude, I will kick you out!"

Tim laughed, and Dick had to join. But even as he did, something inside him twisted. He couldn't help feeling a little bit guilty. They shouldn't be laughing right now.

Tim's grin faltered. "What?"

"Nothing."

"Stop thinking about it."

"I can't!"

The atmosphere had gotten tense again. Dick rubbed his eyes; this was not how he wanted this day to go. But he got the feeling he wasn't going to forget anytime soon.

How do you forget that your friend killed someone?

/

Tim agreed to stay another night. He didn't have any urgent messages from the Titans, and he knew that Cassie could handle things until he got back. He called quickly, just to check in. When he hung up, he smiled.

"Well, now I've seen Chicago from the ground; do I get a bird's eye view, too?"

Dick grinned. "Well, I did forget to patrol last night, so… I guess, double it up tonight?"

"Sounds good to me."

They rushed into their uniforms and snuck out of the apartment. The night was brisk, but once they got moving, Dick doubted either of them would feel the cold. He stood on the edge of his balcony, the wind stinging his cheeks, anticipation racing through his veins.

On his left, Tim cocked a grappling gun. "Ready?"

Dick nodded. "Always."

Three, two, one.

Dick soared off the edge of the balcony, air rushing past, pulling his hair back, lifting him, pushing him. This never got old. The rush as the ground rose to meet him, the tug as the line went taut, the soaring sensation as he rose toward the snow-filled clouds. His feet hit the top of a building and he started to run, Tim hardly a footstep behind.

"How's this for a night out?" Dick yelled over the wind.

"Dick, we do this all the time." Tim's voice came clearly through Dick's com link. "And you know you don't have to shout, right?"

"Aw, come on!" Dick turned and ran backwards. "It's more fun this way!"

Then, his com buzzed.

Dick trotted to a stop. "Red! Wait!"

Tim pulled up beside him. "What?"

Dick pressed at his com, searching for the right channel. Who was calling him? It couldn't be…

 _Nightwing. Do you copy._

Dick raised his brows and shot a glance at Tim. "Loud and clear, Batman."

Tim put a hand to his ear. "Red Robin copies, too."

 _Good. Didn't know if you boys would still have your coms on._

"Never leave home without them," Dick said.

 _I have news. Are you in a good place?_

"Uh… well, we're on top of the Daley Center."

 _That's fine. Just… be stationary._

Dick frowned. "Okay…"

 _Here's the short version. I just got a coded message through Wayne Enterprises' customer service. It's… from Meadowlark._

Oh. That's why they had to be stationary.

Dick grabbed the nearest pole to steady himself. "What?!"

 _The lark got a message to us. She says she's coming home._

The two boys caught each other's eye. Dick's head was buzzing, warring with a million different emotions at once.

"When?" Tim asked.

 _Any moment. Robin and I are patrolling, but Red Hood is on watch for her. I wanted to let you know, in case… you wanted to come home, too._

Dick forced down a longing sigh. He knew he missed his family. He missed Barbara. He missed home. But was now really the time to pack up his whole new life and go running back to Gotham? And what would Tim say? He had his own team. Would he feel obliged to return to them?

Tim's smile was answer enough. "Yeah. We'll be home by tomorrow."

 _Good. We'll be expecting you. I'll let you know when Meadowlark arrives. Batman out._

The coms went silent, and Dick and Tim beamed at each other across the rooftop.

"She's coming home," Dick said, half laughing. "She's free."

"Don't get too excited," Tim warned. "You know what she—"

"Oh, come on, Tim! Let it go for one night." Dick's chest swelled with joy. "Sam's coming home!"

/

I'd never been so happy not to be surrounded by gold-plated marble pillars.

We walked in triumphant parade to Bruce's study. Alfred had his arm around me, clutching me to his side as if I would vanish if he let go. Jason strode purposefully next to me, like a bodyguard, or maybe a really big puppy. If he had a tail, it would have been wagging.

"Masters Bruce and Damian should be home in seconds," Alfred said, flinging wide the study door. "In the meantime, take a seat. Do you need anything? Are you hungry? Thirsty?"

"Whoa, whoa, Alfred!" I laughed. "I've only been home for a minute. All I want…"

I freed myself from his grip and turned so we stood face to face. I saw his eyes soften into that blessed smile. I lost my thought, frozen in time, finally realizing that I was here—we were both here—and I had no distance left to cross, no hours left to travel. Alfred was here.

His hands cupped my face; I worried he would start to cry. Which was not good, because I was about to cry, and if he started crying, I would start crying, and we'd end up blubbering on the couch for hours. So I rushed forward and hugged him again. That should hold the waterworks back, right?

Nope, too late. He started to cry. I could feel it in his chest: a fluttering, shaking breath. It was joy shaking away the terror that had lain on both our hearts for four months. I couldn't not cry then. The tears came quick and hot as I finally released all the anger, fear, and grief I had kept pent up for so long.

"All I want," I sobbed, "is to be with you."

Alfred gave a weary laugh. "You are, my beautiful meadowlark. You are with me."

We stood there for at least a full minute, poor Jason just hovering awkwardly to the side. Then, as we finally let go, I heard an old, familiar sound: gears clicking and whirring behind the grandfather clock, wood brushing over carpet as it moved aside. There were footsteps in the passage beyond.

Bruce and Damian were home.

I turned my teary ecstasy on them. Damian ran to me, and I had to put all my effort into staying upright as he barreled into me, flinging his arms around me.

"You're back," he said quietly.

I could only laugh. And cry. All at once.

"Don't ever do that again, Meyers," he said as he broke away.

"Which part?"

"Almost dying. And getting kidnapped."

"Okay, I'll try my hardest."

"Good." He hesitated, then gave me one more quick hug and backed away.

Then Bruce was standing over me. He put his hand on my head, his eyes searching every aspect of me.

"You cut your hair."

I nodded.

He looked right into my eyes. "You look tired, Sam."

I nodded again. I was. But not so tired I couldn't stay up all night just to be with my family. My _family_.

"You should get some sleep," Bruce advised. "Dick and Tim are on their way home; they'll be here in the morning. We should all get some sleep; I think tomorrow's going to be a big day."

He gave me a quick side-hug and nudged me toward Alfred. "No excuses. Get some rest."

"Yes, sir."

I followed Alfred to the door. But before I could leave, Bruce called after me.

"And Sam!"

I turned. "Yes?"

He smiled. One of those rare smiles that actually reaches his eyes.

"Welcome home."

/

Bruce watched the sun rise from his balcony. He hadn't gotten a wink of sleep. Judging by the light next door, Alfred was awake, too. But he didn't want to disturb the poor man with his ponderings—and they were certainly disturbing.

Samantha had spent four months in the hands of Ra's al Ghul. And then she had come home.

This didn't make sense. How had she escaped? No offense to the girl, but Sam had no skills that would be useful in breaking away from the man who controlled the League of Assassins and his own personal entourage of ninjas to boot. She couldn't have escaped him on her own. So did she have a friend? Someone who snuck her past the guards and held off attackers? But Ra's' men were loyal to a fault. Bruce knew; he had met plenty of them. Why would they desert him for the sake of a mere civilian?

Another possibility was that Ra's let her go, but that was almost more unlikely, and twice as terrifying. If Ra's released her on his own, he had to have some ulterior motive. Could he have turned Sam into a sleeper agent? Had Bruce inadvertently let an enemy into his house? Did Ra's have Sam right where he wanted her - in the den of his greatest enemy?

The question that weighed most on Bruce's mind was, why did Ra's even kidnap her in the first place? Sure, she had been close to death, and Ra's was the only known guardian of a Lazarus Pit. But even if he had taken her to revive her, he never did anything if it didn't benefit himself in some way. So how could Sam be beneficial to him? What did she have that he wanted? Or was she meant to be a bargaining chip, and he had simply never gotten the chance to use her?

There were so many questions, they were starting to bleed together into a single blurry question: why? Bruce rubbed his temples, trying to massage away a headache brought on by lack of sleep and too much thinking. Ra's, for all his faults, was a logical man; there had to be a logical answer.

The phone in Bruce's pocket buzzed. He had received a text from Dick, saying only, "We're here." Bruce turned away from the sunrise. This would be a welcome distraction.

He hurried down to the Batcave. Dick and Tim were just descending from the hangar, where they had parked one of the Teen Titans' mini jets. The moment Dick saw Bruce, his face lit up.

"Long time no see," Dick said, holding out his hand. Bruce shook it just as the elevator arrived with another load. Jason and Damian came strolling across the cave, both wearing mile-wide smiles.

Damian launched himself into Dick's arms. "I missed you," he said under his breath.

"You, too, buddy," Dick said.

Jason made as if to shake Tim's hand, then dragged him into a rib-crunching hug. "Welcome back, little bro!"

Tim gasped for air. "Nice to see you, too."

"Where's Alfred?" Dick asked, looking expectantly around the cave. "I texted him, too."

"Knowing him, he's already gone to make breakfast," Bruce said.

"Good old Alfred," Tim sighed. "I missed him."

"Speaking of missing people," Dick said, looking pointedly at Bruce, "where's Meadowlark?"

"Sam's still asleep. I can go wake her up-"

"Wait."

Bruce paused. He detected a nervous shudder in Tim's voice. "What is it?"

Tim glanced at Dick. Everything about his body language screamed "secret." "Let's… not wake her up yet."

Bruce looked from Tim to Dick. "What is this about?"

Dick didn't seem any more ready to explain than Tim was. "We just want to talk to you guys alone first. Without Sam."

Bruce folded his arms. "Alright. What are we talking about?"

"Secrets, secrets are no fun unless they're shared with everyone," Jason said.

Dick clearly didn't want to say anything. Tim waited for a minute, then sighed. "Alright. I'll tell them."

"No, please, take your time," Damian mumbled.

Tim pursed his lips. "Does everyone remember when we found that security footage from the assassination of the Uqmahli president?"

Bruce nodded.

"Well… um, and we found out that Oddjob worked for Ra's al Ghul. And he had that female sidekick."

Bruce's heart sank. He was starting to put the pieces together. And they didn't make a pretty picture.

"We remember all that," Damian said. "What about it?"

"His sidekick struck again, only a couple nights ago, in Chicago."

"Not Oddjob?"

"No, just her. She… she attacked a man… and killed him. And since he was in Chicago, Dick investigated the crime. And he found…"

Tim stopped. He turned to Bruce, his eyes begging for help. Bruce thought he knew what Tim was trying to say, but it was so terrible, he didn't want to say it, either. But then, Jason looked up, his face grim.

"He found out that Sam was the killer."

Dick and Tim stared at their brother. "How… how did you know?" Tim asked.

Jason glanced sheepishly at Bruce. "Sam told me everything, back when I found her. I didn't want to tell, not without her, but… if you already know, I guess…"

"Did she say why?" Bruce asked.

Jason bit his lip. "I'd rather let her tell you. It's… complicated."

The back of Bruce's neck prickled. He turned to see someone watching from a few feet away, her feet bare on the cold stone floor, her shorn locks hiding her face.

"Samantha," Bruce said, in warning to the boys.

Dick and Tim both stiffened. "Sam," Dick said, softly, nervously.

Sam looked up, her face blank, her eyes hollow wells of hidden horrors. "I'd like to tell you everything now."

/

New sunlight was shining through the windows when we congregated in Bruce's study once again. But our group—an aging butler, a few bone-tired vigilantes, and a kidnapee turned assassin—was anything but sunny. Especially now that it was finally coming out—the story of the past four months of my life.

I had so much to tell them; where to start? I thought back as far as I could, and realized the only way to tell it was from the very beginning. So, as my little family watched me expectantly over forgotten mugs of coffee, I took a breath, and began.

"The first thing I remember is waking up to Talia al Ghul standing over me. She told me it had been five days since… whatever happened after Tim's party. Since I was kidnapped, I guess.

"Talia told me that she had gotten me out of a coma using the water from the Lazarus Pit. She said she had been dosing me with an extremely diluted version, so diluted that its healing effects took about ten times as long to act. I know, Bruce… I thought you'd be worried. But Talia said she'd been experimenting expressly so she could avoid turning people mad."

"So you haven't experienced any side effects?" Bruce asked.

I shook my head. "Nothing I know of. And I wasn't the first test case. Talia's formula had worked on two other people before me."

Bruce humphed. "Go on."

"Okay… well, that same night, Ra's al Ghul invited me to dinner. And… he told me the reason for the attacks my parents and I experienced."

I looked to Jason. This was the first big road block I faced in telling this story. Jason nodded reassurance.

"He told me… that he has been watching my family since I was five. We were… we had a role in a certain experiment of his. He started this project with a mad scientist who got fired from STAR Labs, a project to synthesize superpowers. He said the idea was to open the flow of signals between the brain and the body, which would enhance the abilities of both. And to test it…"

I turned my face to Bruce. "My brother, Jem… he wasn't killed in the Joker attack. Talia kidnapped him as a test subject."

I could already see the wheels turning in everyone's brains. There were plenty of detectives in this room; surely at least one of them had worked out where all of this would go. But nobody said a word. They wanted to hear it from me. So I went on.

"They used my brother to test the chip, and a little while later, they… used me, too."

Dick straightened. "So, wait… you've got a…"

"Yes."

I looked around. Bruce was nodding for me to continue.

"I do have a chip. And my parents were given chips, too." I glanced at Alfred. "That's what happened on that trip. Somebody found them and… turned them into experiments. Ra's kept it in the family because, if something went wrong, nobody would suspect anything. They'd just think it was a genetic thing. And that's exactly what happened."

Alfred had his hands pressed to his mouth. "Good Lord," he whispered. "That's what killed them."

I nodded. The shock that this news had once brought now turned to anger in my chest. I faced Bruce once more.

"The attacks were caused by the dormancy of the chip. It wasn't really on, but it wasn't off, either, and our brains and bodies couldn't handle the surge of signals between them."

Bruce reached out and took my hand. For a moment, we were connected—the orphan children of murdered parents.

"I'm sorry," Bruce said.

I squeezed his hand gratefully. "It's alright."

My eye happened to land upon Damian's face. He seemed to be struggling with something, and I realized for the first time that I might not be the only one finding this story difficult. Damian looked up at me almost guiltily, and I felt so bad that I instantly started searching for something good to say—or at least, something in Ra's' favor.

"The evening wasn't all bad news," I said. "Ra's got the chance to reintroduce me to someone I had thought was dead for a long time."

The gloom lifted from Damian's eyes. "Your brother?"

I nodded. "Yes. My brother, Jeremiah. He ended up being a real source of comfort while I was with Ra's."

Damian seemed immensely relieved. Then, he sat up, a thought crossing his face. "Jeremiah… I think I know him."

"You should. Ra's said you fought him a few times."

"Fought him?" Bruce said. "I thought he was an experiment."

"He was," I said, returning to my story. "But not in the way you might think. Part of the experiment, for Jem, was working for Ra's as… as a fighter."

"I'm assuming, then, that he figured out a way to stop having attacks."

"He did. The attacks stop once the chip is turned on. That way you control brain flow instead of having erratic and unpredictable episodes."

"How do you turn it on?" Tim asked.

"You have to invent a signal that'll tell your brain when the chip is on and off. It's a mental process. Once you've thought of it, since the chip is connected to your brain, it comes out of dormant state and starts to function properly. That's what Jem did; he created a signal, and now he can turn the chip on and off at will, which both stops attacks and gives him… superpowers."

Bruce cocked his head. "Like what?"

"He's fast, smart, and fierce. Actually, you've all seen him in action. Jem is Oddjob."

"That explains some things," Dick remarked. "So he's actually superpowered, is he?"

"Yeah."

"So what's his signal?" Tim asked.

I smiled a little. "My name."

"So… did you… do you have a signal?"

This was the part I really wanted to tell. "I do. Ra's had me decide on one the day after I woke up."

"And it's…?"

"Music."

"Music?" Damian repeated with not a little surprise.

"I know it sounds strange, but trust me, I thought this through. I wanted to be able to tell if my chip was on or not, so that I didn't accidentally trigger it without knowing. So, if I hear music playing, I know it's on. And if I don't, it's off."

"What if someone starts playing music when you don't want them to?" Damian asked.

I blinked. Well, isn't that what had happened, when…? Oh, gosh, no. Don't think about it. It isn't time for that yet. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.

"It's a setback, I know. I guess… I just feel safer _knowing_ that it's off or on."

After a moment, Alfred patted my hand. "So what happened next?"

I shook myself. "Next… was just training. Jem had already become one of Ra's' top operatives, and I guess Ra's was hoping I'd complete the set. Talia trained me so my body would have the physical prowess to do what my enhanced brain needed it to. Then she started teaching me how to use the chip."

"So you… are enhanced, then," Alfred said slowly.

I could barely meet his eyes. He looked almost… betrayed. Like I wasn't the Samantha he had been expecting. Well… I wasn't. I plunged on.

"Yes. I am enhanced. Jason knows; he's seen it."

Jason nodded. "I have. It was impressive, to say the least. She's got to be as good as us now."

Nobody seemed very excited about that comment. I glanced around the circle; all faces were aimed at the ground, processing, worrying. Alfred was the first to speak into the silence.

He asked the question I feared answering the most.

"How did you escape?"

I licked my lips and stared at the floor. Surely there was an easy way to tell this.

"It took a while. My plan was to get Ra's to trust me, enough that he would let me go out on a mission with little to no supervision. I knew he wanted me and Jem to work together, so if he sent us out together, I needed to be able to beat him. That's why it took four months. I had to get strong enough that I could move on from sparring with Talia, and then get good enough that I could beat my brother the greater portion of the time.

"I almost got an opportunity, a couple months ago. You… didn't happen to know about Uqmahl, did you? And the assassination—"

"The assassination of the president, yes," Bruce said. "We found security footage."

"Then… you know it was Jem and me?"

"I didn't. But I had my suspicions." Bruce shared a cryptic glance with Dick and Tim. I felt the heat creep into my cheeks. Something told me they knew a lot more than they were letting on.

"Well… anyway, I was strong enough to beat Jem at that point, but Ra's didn't let me go with my music, so I would never have been able to take him out. And I… wasn't ready to leave my brother. He was injured during the mission."

"Was it you?" Tim asked pointedly.

I kept my head down. "The one who killed the president?"

"Was it?"

"No."

"The footage wasn't all that clear," Bruce said, more to Tim than me. "It was hard to tell which one did what."

"That was on purpose," I said. "Jem set it all up. He put an EMP in the camera system, and turned it on at the right moment, so Ra's wouldn't be able to see that Jem had killed the president and not me."

The tension lessened a little, and I dared to look up again. Tim looked relieved, but not completely. Something else was bothering him. And the same look darkened Dick's face.

They knew, didn't they?

I sighed. "It seems some of you know the rest already."

"The rest of what?" Alfred asked.

I looked around the room and realized every face in the room was wearing that dark expression—except Alfred's. My blood started to boil.

"So none of you thought to tell Alfred, huh?"

"Tell me what?"

"Just finish the story," Bruce said calmly.

"Well, I don't really want to now. Not if it means _I_ have to tell him."

"Again, what are we not telling me?"

"Fine." I threw up my hands, my emotions reaching a dangerous pitch. "Fine! The last two months, I spent finalizing my plan, but then it all went wrong because my brother developed a heart. He couldn't kill someone, and failed his mission. So Ra's decides to send me instead to finish the job. And I find myself in Chicago with orders to kill a man. I go through all the right motions. I play along. And then I find myself at the end of the line. I can't pretend anymore. I can't hide, because there's cameras everywhere, and I can't lie, because he can see everything.

"So I stand there, helpless. And then, the radio turns on. Ra's hacks into a radio and sets my chip off, and suddenly, I'm mad. Just spitting, boiling mad. So I did it. I killed him. Are you happy?"

I was on my feet. My mug lay in pieces on the floor. And there were tears streaking down my face. It had all come and gone in a blur, just like it had in the moment. And the silence afterward was just as deafening.

It felt so familiar. Too familiar.

My throat seemed to constrict. My chest was tight; I couldn't breathe. The room seemed to be collapsing around me. I had to get out.

I stumbled to the door, their voices distant, muted, like they were underwater. Everything hurt, like my chest was exploding and imploding all at once. I was being squeezed and pulled and crushed. My limbs were tingling—they felt so far away. My head started to go light, and I couldn't keep walking. I put out a hand, searching for the wall.

Instead, someone grabbed my arm. "Hey, Sam. Breathe, okay? You're fine. Just breathe."

It was Jason. He lowered me to the floor and sat me up against the wall, muttering instructions all the while. "Calm down. Take a deep breath. You're okay."

We sat for far too long. But finally, I started to feel like myself again. My limbs returned to normal. My head didn't feel as light. Jason's hand on my arm was constant, firm, present. I closed my eyes and opened them.

"I'm fine," I whispered.

"Good," Jason said. "Okay. You wanna go back?"

I grimaced, wiping the tears from my face. "How did he take it?"

"Alfred's fine. Hey, you know, if anyone were going to take it well, it's Alfred. We've all been through things—all made mistakes. You know who's always there? Alfred. Who always takes care of us, no matter what we've done? Alfred. You don't have to worry about a thing."

I looked around, noticing my surroundings for the first time. We were on the first floor, in one of the nice hallways that led to the ballroom. The windows reached from floor to ceiling. They were so big and airy and bright, that they made everything feel less tight, less constricting. I sighed and leaned against Jason.

"I don't wanna go back."

"That's alright. I'll stay with you."

"Thanks."

We sat there for a long time, until I heard running feet and saw Damian come skidding around a corner. I quickly got to my feet and tried not to look like I had been crying. Why did I feel so nervous all of a sudden?

"Todd," Damian said, "Alfred's going to make breakfast."

"'Kay. We'll be right there."

Damian shot me a look. "Alfred really wants to see you."

I nodded, and he left. Jason held out his hand. "Are you ready now?"

"I think so."

We made our way to the dining room, where the rest of the family was already gathered. Alfred was standing at the sideboard, stirring a pot of gravy. When he looked at me, he didn't seem unhappy, or afraid, or angry, or any of the things I had feared seeing in his eyes. Instead, his eyes were full of compassion, and before I could sit down, he had gathered me into a fierce embrace. I held him for just a minute, and he didn't keep me any longer than I wanted. But I felt immensely relieved.

"You're going to be alright," Alfred said, pronouncing each syllable like it was a royal decree. "Alright?"

I nodded and brushed away a rogue tear. "Alright."

"Good. Now, go sit down. Time for breakfast."

Before I left, though, Alfred caught my eye and lifted the corner of a cloth. Underneath, I spotted a hefty pile of chocolate chip muffins. Alfred winked.

"Your favorite."

I managed a tiny smile. How did he always know how to make it better?


	11. Chapter 10: Broken

**Chapter 10 - Broken**

I didn't sleep well. I had at least two nightmares, neither very coherent, but both had this running theme of spiders. Not pleasant.

A glance at my alarm clock told me it was late in the morning; I should probably get up, get dressed, all that jazz. But I kept imagining these huge creepy crawlies coming out of dark corners, and that really isn't a good mindset to have when walking into the closet you haven't used in four months.

Thankfully, a knock on my door distracted me. I sat up and called, "Come in!"

It was Alfred. He smiled when he saw me, and his eyes sparkled. He was definitely hiding something.

"Good morning, Samantha," he said. "I've brought you a present."

"Is it a puppy?"

"Even better."

He opened the door a bit wider, and I caught a glimpse of auburn hair. My heart swelled in my chest.

Barbara Gordon had come to visit.

She stepped into the room like it was my death chamber, her face drawn and hesitant. Her eyes searched mine, and she didn't seem to like what she saw. But even as her brow drew tighter, her mouth spread wide in a teary grin.

"Sam," she said, her voice cracking.

That swelling feeling was starting to make my chest hurt. "Hi, Babs."

She ran across the room and tackled me into a hug.

I spent the next few minutes smothered in hugs and kisses. Babs was laughing and crying at the same time, which, of course, set me off, and we collapsed into a sobbing, giggling pile of happiness on my bed. When we calmed down enough to talk, Babs asked for the full story. I told what I could, avoiding what happened in Chicago like it was a bomb. But I told her about the biochip, and about Jeremiah, and that I had escaped because I got Ra's to trust me enough to send me on a mission alone. Babs was reasonably impressed.

"I didn't know it was possible to trick that man," she said, hugging one of my pillows. "He always seems to be one step ahead of everyone. Even Tim."

"Speaking of Tim, I heard he's the new leader of the Teen Titans."

"Oh, yeah! He's always been super close with those kids. Superboy, especially."

"Huh." I stared up at the ceiling as a pit started to form somewhere in my stomach. "What else… don't I know?"

Babs thought, resting her chin on the pillow. "Well… you know about Dick moving to Chicago, right?"

My hands clenched. "Yeah… I knew that." She doesn't know; don't do anything stupid.

"Okay. Uh… well, there was a Riddler attack sometime in August, but that went quick. He's always been a little underwhelming."

My eyebrows rose. "I didn't hear anything about that. A Riddler attack… usually, I would've known the minute it happened. That's wild."

Barbara saddened. "You have been kind of… _insulated_ for the past four months. I bet there's a lot you've missed."

I nodded sadly. "I guess so."

Babs quickly forced a smile. "Hey, well, one thing you missed was my birthday. I'm a whole year older now!"

"What? No way! When's your birthday?"

"September twenty-third."

"Aw, I did miss it! I should get you something."

"Hey," Babs said, stretching out beside me. "You're the best birthday present I could ask for. Even if you're a little late."

I smiled. "Sorry."

"It's alright. The later the present, the longer the birthday."

"Seriously? Where'd you learn that?"

"My granny. Granny always knows best."

"Ah, yes," I declared, saluting to the ceiling, "all hail the All-Knowing Granny!"

Babs collapsed into a fit of giggles. I joined her, if half-heartedly. I felt as if I were watching the moment from a distance. For the first time since… well, Jem… I was hanging out with a friend, laughing and making jokes, as if nothing in the world were wrong. It felt good. But it also felt—if only a little, tiny, guilty bit—wrong.

Because poor Jem was still in captivity. And I was making jokes.

Babs stopped laughing. She looked at me as if it were only just dawning on her that I was different—changed. Darker. Her hand slid under my head, brushing my hair aside.

"I'm glad you're back, Sam."

"Me, too."

/

As soon as Barbara left, I hurried to find Bruce. He was in the dining room with Tim and Jason; they were finishing off a light breakfast. Jason smiled when he saw me.

"Morning, Sam. Grab a bite, sit down!"

"I actually…" I glanced at the scraps of food on the sideboard. "Maybe later. Bruce, I was wondering if I can use the computer. The cave computer."

Bruce set down his mug of coffee. "What for?"

I bit my lip. I didn't really want to bring up yesterday, but… "There was one detail I didn't get to share. About Jem."

"Your brother."

"Yeah."

"What about him?"

"Just that… he's still with Ra's. Except he's changed. He fell out of Ra's' good graces by choosing not to kill, and Ra's was pretty mad."

"You think Ra's might act on that anger."

"I know he will. He did." I pulled out a chair and sat down. "See, when I was coming home, I made it almost to Gotham, but I guess Ra's anticipated my homecoming, because Talia was waiting for me. She almost hit me with a car. And then she tried to bribe me into coming home, using… using Jeremiah as blackmail."

"Wait, that was him?" Jason sat up, his face drawn in horror. "That beat up kid was your brother? Why didn't you say something? We could've gone after them!"

"There wasn't time," I said.

"What do you mean, beat up?" Tim asked.

"I mean he looked a little like I did after a date with the Crown Prince of Crime," Jason said. "I'm surprised he was still—"

I stood so fast, my chair fell over. "He's alive, Jason Todd, so shut your face!"

He flinched. "Sorry. Force of habit; I'm sorry."

"Don't you ever," I menaced, "suggest anything like that again. Bruce, can I use the computer or not?"

Bruce nodded slowly and got to his feet. "I'll come with you. I've made some updates that might help."

"Thank you." I stormed off, not waiting for Bruce to catch up. I knew I was being rude, but my blood was boiling. Jason could be really heartless sometimes. My brother had to be alive.

"Sam!" Bruce caught up to me. "You know Jason isn't trying to be unfeeling. He just tends to say the wrong thing at the wrong time."

"I know, I know, but it doesn't justify-"

"Sam, yesterday he was your best friend. What's wrong today?"

"I'd rather not talk about yesterday."

"I'm not. I'm talking about your reaction…"

"My reaction? It's my fault now?"

"It's not your fault. I'm just wondering why you would react to Jason so strongly."

"Because my brother. Isn't. Dead!"

Bruce didn't respond. I kept walking, my head down. My blood was hotter than ever, but I realized that it wasn't Jason I was angry with. I didn't think I was angry at anyone. I was just angry. So powerfully, incredibly raging mad.

We'd better find my brother, or I was going to start punching things.

/

We didn't find him.

I watched in growing despair as Bruce tried less and less to hide his frustration. We tried everything. I knew for a fact that I had been kept in Ra's palace, and my description matched Bruce's knowledge of the place. We searched that palace for signs of life at least five times, and found nothing. According to heat scans, satellite imaging, and every security measure Bruce could hack, the place was abandoned. So we branched out. We calculated distance between Ra's' known hideouts, triangulating spaces where he might build another one. We searched the internet for any mention of a gold palace, wondering if perhaps Ra's had built a replica off the grid just to confuse us. We searched for Lazarus Pits, known League of Assassins members, and even brought Tim in to see if he could find and hack the signal for Ra's' infamous computer.

Nothing. We found absolutely nothing.

An hour passed. I found myself sitting on the floor, picking pebbles out of the floor and chucking them over a cliff. I eyed the punching bags in the corner, but I was so frustrated, I couldn't make myself get up to use them. Tim was still clacking away at the keyboard, but he knew as well as Bruce and I did, that we wouldn't find anything. At long last, he sighed and pushed away from the computer.

"I've done everything I can," Tim said. "Checked every channel, com line, and signal I've ever found Ra's on. It's like he just stopped existing."

I dug out a bigger rock than usual and threw it as far as I could, hearing the crack as it hit a stalagmite somewhere deep in the cave.

"At this rate, we're more likely to find my parents' ghosts than Ra's al Ghul."

"Don't give up," Bruce said. "So long as he's somewhere on this planet, we'll find him."

I laughed. "Maybe he isn't on this planet."

Bruce paused, then looked at Tim. Tim instantly turned back to the computer. "I'll check for unauthorized boom tube activity."

"What tube?"

"Boom tube," Bruce said. "It's a teleport, except it can go anywhere, even in space."

"So you think Ra's took me to another planet? One that just happened to have an exact replica of his palace and a jungle outside?"

"I think it's quite possible that, to keep you hidden, he moved completely out of the range of our scanners. I don't know where that would be, but move beyond Earth's limits and I can't do much to track you. I knew I should've talked to the Green Lantern Corp."

"Hey, we were justified in assuming he wouldn't take her off-world," Tim said. "He's never been an outer-space sort of villain."

"I'm still pretty sure he didn't take me off-world," I said. "I know I was on planet Earth when I did outside training, and the two times I went on a mission. You have evidence to prove it, myself included. I _drove_ here. No teleportation involved."

"I'm not seeing anything," Tim confirmed. "No boom tubes. Not even zeta. I'd almost say we're going through a teleportation withdrawal."

"Well, where else could he have hidden?" I yelled, my words ringing through the caves. "Where could he possibly be hiding now that's _so secret_ that the World's Greatest Detective can't find him?"

"We're going to find your brother, Sam," Bruce said. "We just need more time."

"And some creative thinking," Tim added.

"Cool," I said, getting to my feet. "You do that. I need to do anything else."

I dropped the rock over the side of the cliff, watching it fall further and further down, until it hit some distant body of water with a dull splash. Then I turned and left the cave, seeking solitude and something to hit.

/

Alfred carefully piled two cups of tea, cream, sugar, and a plate of biscuits on a tray. Carefully, and with years of practice to steady his hand, he made his way out of the kitchen and upstairs.

The real trouble would be finding Samantha.

Alfred desperately wanted to spend some time alone with his niece. He hadn't seen her in four months, and now she seemed to be all over the place, hanging out with anyone but her uncle. This time, he would pin her down with some nice Earl Grey and a plate of biscuits.

Then maybe they could talk about how she was really doing.

Alfred searched the manor, hoping Samantha would be in her room or perhaps in front of the television. The old Samantha would have been. But this new Samantha clearly wasn't in the mood for comfy couches. Alfred sighed heavily as he came upon the gym and heard the distinct sounds of someone using the punching bag.

Samantha had her back to the door. She was tearing into that bag, hammering her fists hard enough to break the seams. She didn't even seem to notice that Alfred had entered the room. He stood watching for a moment, then lifted his voice.

"Sam—"

She whirled around, her fist flying. Alfred dodged to the side just in time, the teacups rattling on their saucers.

"Oh," Samantha gasped. "Alfred. I'm so sorry, I didn't…"

"Not to worry," Alfred said, eyeing the sloshing cups. "Not a drop spilt."

"I could've hurt you."

"No chance of that. My reflexes are far too good."

Samantha didn't even smile. She looked down at the tea tray. "What's this?"

"Something to chat over," Alfred said, setting the tray on the floor. "Come on. Sit with me. I'd like to spend some quality time with my niece."

Samantha sat, her eyes following Alfred like searchlights as he lowered himself to the floor. "Do you need any help?"

"If I let you help, I would have to admit that my age has caught up to me, and that is simply out of the question."

At last, some light flickered in Samantha's eyes. "I missed you, Alfred."

Alfred stared at his niece, trying to force a smile. "And I you, my little meadowlark."

He handed Samantha a cup of tea and lifted his own. "So. It's your second day back. How do you feel?"

Samantha shrugged. "I feel… angry. My brother is still with Ra's. And if I've learned anything, it's that Ra's values loyalty and trust, and Jem broke his trust the moment he refused to carry out Ra's' orders."

"Master Jason mentioned you were downstairs looking for him. I'm guessing you got nowhere with that."

"Yup. Nowhere at all."

Samantha took a sip of her tea—completely black, Alfred noted—and shook her head. "Ra's seems to have completely vanished from planet Earth. We've checked every one of his known hideouts, and they were all devoid of life, as if they'd been abandoned. We know he used the water from a Lazarus Pit to get me on my feet, but every pit on record is either guarded, closed up, or located near one of the abandoned hideouts."

"And I assume you've searched for him across the globe using other means?"

"Tim's hacked into everything he could find. Not a trace."

Alfred gently set his tea down. "Is there any chance Ra's is simply hiding in plain sight? Could he, for instance, be using a different sort of technology than he usually does? Or perhaps found some way of concealing electronic signals and signs of life from our scanners?"

She laughed derisively. "That's the question, isn't it? Could he? Honestly, I'm starting to think he's hiding in another dimen—"

Her face went slack. Alfred sat up straighter as he caught onto her drift.

"Another dimension, perhaps," Alfred muttered. "That would explain some things."

Samantha got to her feet, leaving her tea behind. "We have to tell Bruce. Do you know, does he have some kind of scanner for alternate dimensions?"

"If he doesn't have something, the Justice League will."

"Good. I'll go tell Bruce."

"Samantha…" Alfred got to his feet, watching his long-awaited chat over tea quickly walking away. "Samantha, wait one minute…"

But she was gone. Alfred sighed. He certainly wasn't about to go chasing after her. His afternoon plans had left with her, and if he waited for her to come back, the tea would be cold.

So he sat back down, lifted his tea cup, and drank his Earl Grey in dissatisfied silence.

/

"Bruce! I might have an idea!"

I sprinted across the cave, my eyes searching for Bruce or Tim. They must have left while I was beating the fluff out of the punching bag. I slid into the computer chair.

"Computer," I said. "Do you have anything like a dimension scanner? Dimension… something? Anything?"

Five results loaded, all including the word 'dimension.' There was something called a "Multidimensional Breach Reader;" that looked like my best bet. I loaded the program and searched back through the last couple days. Surely, with me leaving, and Talia coming after me, as well as returning back afterward, the reader should have caught some activity.

I laughed out loud when the readings confirmed that there had, indeed, been interdimensional activity in the recent past. And the spot where all three of the most recent breaches had appeared was located only a couple miles from Ra's' palace.

"He was hiding in plain sight the whole time," I whispered to myself.

"Sam?"

I turned to see Jason wandering across the cave, carrying a thermos. He glanced up at the computer and frowned the way he did when he was reading closely. I had almost forgotten that look. I smiled and waited for him to catch up.

"Those breaches," he said, setting his thermos aside. "When did they happen?"

"The twenty-third and the twenty-fifth."

"The former being the day you escaped, right? And the second was the night we found you… when Talia was there."

I nodded.

Jason graced me with a proud smile. "Samantha Meyers. You're amazing."

"You understand…?"

"That those breaches lead to another dimension, which explains why Ra's has been able to hide himself and you from us for four months? Yes, I do."

"And this means we know where he is now… and where he's keeping Jem."

Our eyes met, and for the first time, I felt a spark of hope in my chest. But it was blown out like a candle in a hurricane. How could I know Ra's would still be there? How could I know that Jem was even…?

"Jay, what if… what if he is… I mean, what if Ra's…"

"Sam," Jason sighed, slinging an arm over the back of the chair. "I just said that because I was considering every possibility. I didn't want to make you doubt. I definitely don't want you to lose hope."

"You were right, though. There isn't much reason to think Ra's would keep my brother alive."

"So you're saying we should give up on Jem."

"What? No!" My face went hot. "That's not even… I just don't want to go all that way and find out it was for nothing. I couldn't… I couldn't bear that kind of disappointment."

"Then don't." Jason crouched, so his face was at my level. "Do you believe he's alive?"

"I… don't know."

"Believe it. It's a million times better to believe than to despair."

I blinked in shock. "You are the last person I would expect to tell me to trust blind faith."

"I have experience," he said. "I believed for four months that you were alive. I believed that you would someday come back to us, or that we would find you and bring you home. Do you know who taught me to believe like that?"

"Alfred."

Jason laughed. "Close, but no. I mean you, Sam. You put every ounce of faith you had in me and the rest of the family when you were sick. You trusted us to find you a cure, when the world's leading scientists had failed with your parents. And…" His eyes turned complicated. "You trusted in me… believed in me. Even after you found out I murdered dozens of people. You were one of the first people to forgive me for what I did. That… you know, it… changes people."

For a moment, Jason seemed lost in his own thoughts. But then he cleared his throat and looked back at me. "Sam, I have such a hard time trusting anyone, that when I find someone who has your level of faith, I can't help but be suspicious of them. But you—the old you—believed so strongly, had so much faith, that I honestly would have followed you into Hell if you believed we would make it out safe. Now, I know you've changed; but please, don't lose that. Don't lose your faith. It's your best quality."

Jason stood and returned to his thermos, taking a quick swig of whatever was inside. I sat in silence, floored by his sudden declaration. I didn't even have that kind of faith in myself anymore, considering I was basically a sleeper agent for Ra's al Ghul and would up and murder my friends any minute if he asked me to. So Jason's show of belief was… indescribably comforting.

Into the silence, I whispered, "Thank you."

Jason simply winked. "Sure thing, Sam." He took a deep breath and turned to the computer. "So. How are we getting inside?"


	12. Chapter 11: Operation Oddjob

**Chapter 11 - Operation Oddjob**

"Let me come with."

"No." Bruce didn't look up from his work, busily reviewing the route he and the boys would take to Ra's' secret lair. "Please don't ask again."

He had a right to be annoyed; I had asked at least seven times by now. But I wasn't going to give up.

"I need to be there when you find him," I said. "I need to see with my eyes that Jem is okay. And I want to help you get in. I can fight as well as any of you now."

"That's what worries me."

"I've told you, I can handle it! I've used my powers without hurting anyone. I could probably manage without them, anyway. I'm strong, I know the moves—"

"You were trained by a killer, Sam." Bruce turned away from the computer and stalked toward the bench where he had laid out his suit. "Anything you've learned, you learned so he could turn you into a killer. I don't want you using your abilities, super or not, until I know for sure you can fight like a hero and not an assassin."

"I fight like me!" I cried, racing after him. "I fight with my own methods, my own mind."

"You're not going to be able to see his influence. Not yet, at least. You're not coming."

"I need to be there!" I planted myself in front of him, and with a long-suffering look, he stopped. "Jem is my brother; I need to be there for him. And Ra's is my enemy. He kept me prisoner for four months. He beat my brother—hurt him! He _killed_ my _parents_! I need to see him. I need to _fight_ him. He has to pay for what he's done to my family!"

"He will! But that's not your job."

"Why not? This is literally exactly what you've been doing for years! Why won't you let me do the same?"

"Because look how you're acting! This is exactly the kind of behavior that worries me when I see it in Jason!"

At that exact moment, Jason came strolling by. He and Bruce froze in unison, noticing each other's presence at the same time.

Woof. I _felt_ that.

It was like someone had dropped a bucket of ice on the atmosphere. My spine tingled with the power of their mutual fury. Every muscle in Jason's body was rigid, his eyes boiling with resentment. Bruce barely changed; only his brows lowered, hooding his eyes, turning his face even more dangerous than before.

Had something happened while I was gone?

"Bottom line is," Bruce growled, "you're not coming, and that's final. Now either go wait for Alfred at the computer, or get out of my cave."

I glanced at Jason. He stood with arms folded, clearly waiting his turn at Bruce. I could nearly see the steam coming out of his ears.

"Fine," I whispered, even though every bone in my body shook with the effort of admitting defeat. I stepped quickly to the side and let Bruce get to the bench. Jason made to follow, but I reached out and grabbed his arm.

"Jay. What was that?"

"What was what?" He wouldn't look at me; his eyes were fixed spitefully upon Bruce's back.

" _That_. Whatever's going on between you and Bruce."

Jason laughed without mirth. "You mean you've never seen this before? Trust me; this is normal."

I looked up at him, and he finally met my gaze.

"I can't go," I said.

"I'm sorry," he said. "But, you know, it's probably for the best. Less people means more stealth."

"You have to get him back for me," I said, putting every ounce of my frustration into the words. "Get Jem back for me; get him safe."

"We'll all try—"

"No." I tightened my grip on his arm. "Don't try. Do it. Get my brother out of there, Jason."

His scowl softened. "Okay. Okay, Sam, I'll… do everything I can. I promise."

I nodded, then released him and stormed over to the computer. I waited in silence, expecting to hear raised voices over by the bench. But nothing happened. I guess they were better at keeping it in than they looked.

Which meant there was nothing to distract me from the gaping chasm in my chest—the hollow, aching reminder that I wasn't going. I had to stay home while entrusting my brother's life to Bruce and the boys. Sure, I trusted them completely; but a little perfectionist voice in my head kept saying I had to be there. I had to make sure every little thing went according to plan.

I had to get my hands on Ra's. Just hit him, just once.

With a sigh, I ran my hand over my face. I knew it wasn't healthy to think like that. Even when I was fighting so hard for my place on the team, I agreed with Bruce, that I was in entirely the wrong frame of mind. But that anger was so loud sometimes. And even if I didn't like it, I still listened to it.

What was wrong with me?

/

Tim felt legitimately relieved to get away from Samantha for a while. He hated that he felt that way. But she was so different from that sweet, perky ray of sunshine from before that Tim didn't think he could honestly say he knew her anymore. She was almost frightening. Those big, dark eyes that had once been soft and kind were now full of sorrow and a secret rage that simmered dangerously close to the surface.

 _Everyone copy?_

Tim jolted out of his thoughts, readjusting to his surroundings. He was crouched in the foliage just a few feet away from the place where Ra's' dimensional breach was located. Tim raised a hand to his com link.

"Redbird copies."

 _Bluebird copies._

 _Mad Hatter copies._

 _Shuriken copies._

 _Remind me why he got to pick his own code name?_

 _No chatter on the line, please,_ Batman said. _Detective copies. The mission is go._

Tim nodded to himself. The first part of the plan hinged on his ability to accurately locate, open, and maintain a sizeable breach so the others could get through. He had the technology, but it would require a fair amount of concentration to keep the technology working. A portal finder this small could short out easily.

So no more thinking about Sam.

Tim slipped through the underbrush as silently as a breath of wind. He stopped just shy of the spot where the breach would open and held out the portal finder. Its scanners were whizzing madly, signaling that he had come to the right place.

Tim entered the proper coordinates for the dimensional breach. He had to get it exactly right; pocket dimensions opened from a point small enough to fit on the tip of a needle. He held the portal finder and waited for a count of four seconds.

Then the air in front of him exploded with extradimensional energy. A visible breach appeared, just tall enough for a man. Tim glanced at the portal finder; the breach was holding steady.

"Open sesame," he whispered into the com.

Out of the forest, the rest of the team materialized. Batman paused at the breached and waited to make sure everyone was through; then he and Tim leapt into the breach together. The moment his feet landed on solid ground, Tim turned a knob on the portal finder, and the breach closed with a violent _woosh_.

Batman nodded thanks to his third Robin. "It worked."

"I worried it would overload," Tim admitted, examining his contraption. "It still might the second time through. But at least it actually opened a breach, so…"

"Stop being so picky, it worked fine," Red Hood said, peering through the trees. "Looks like Phase Two will work out pretty well. I don't count more than five guards on the outside."

"Seven," Nightwing corrected. "Snipers on the roof."

"Grandfather will be more prepared than that," Robin said from his perch in a nearby tree. "If this side is guarded by seven, there will be seven more on the far end, not to mention at least ten in the windows."

"Which is why this is a stealth mission," Batman said. "The less of them know we're here, the more time we have inside, and the more likely we'll find the package before Ra's is alerted."

"He probably already knows," Robin said.

Batman carefully stifled a sigh. "Fair enough. But we won't give him the satisfaction of a real fight. We get in, find the package, and get out. Got it?"

"Got it," the boys said.

"Let's go."

The team split into five units again. Each had their entry points, strategically chosen as far from the others as possible. Tim's entry point was on the highest level, in a small window that led to a bedroom. There was a sniper just above it. Tim eyed the angle of trajectory he would need to swing up to the window, and the angle he would need to silently and quickly take out the sniper. Then he pulled out his grappling hook and cocked it, cautiously, precisely… there.

The shot went off. The hook caught the wall just below the window, where a nearby balcony cast a decent shadow. Tim reeled himself in, loosing a couple discs at the same time. One stuck in the barrel of the sniper's gun, blocking his shot, and the other hit the sniper himself in just the right place, knocking him out cold. He fell to the side, his arm keeping the gun from hitting the roof and making any kind of noise.

Tim landed on the wall and scrambled upward with the last of his momentum. He reached out and hooked his fingers onto the windowsill. With expert ease, he whipped out a lockpick and opened the window. He slipped inside, ducking below the window and hugging the shadows.

"Redbird is in," he whispered.

 _Bluebird is in._

 _Shuriken is in._

It took a moment longer, but Batman and Red Hood both confirmed they had made it inside without any trouble. Phase Two was complete.

Now they just had to find Jeremiah.

 _I've got hostiles,_ Nightwing said. _Three of them. They're guarding the west wing of the palace._

 _Grandfather's private study is in the west wing._

 _Then Ra's might be hiding there,_ Batman said. _The question is, will he keep Jeremiah close to him, or far away?_

"We can search both ends," Tim said, scanning ahead as he made his way west. "Personally, I'd prefer to search the west wing. I've got a bone to pick with a certain immortal."

 _Not without me,_ Red Hood said.

 _Alright, Hatter, Redbird, take the west. Shuriken, Bluebird, and I will take the east. Keep me updated if anything changes, but make sure the line stays quiet._

Tim followed the darkest corridors westward. He met little resistance—nothing he couldn't take out with a couple well-placed disks. It seemed the east wing of the palace was practically empty. Tim felt a little jittery as he walked past room after eerily silent room. Something wasn't right.

Then he turned a corner and saw movement in the shadows. He tensed for a fight.

Red Hood shifted into the light. "Guess the Reds got the west."

Tim straightened and sighed. "I thought you were a ninja."

"Thanks?" Jason cocked his head. "Wait—"

Out of the rafters fell twelve hostiles—six blocking the hallway on either end. Tim whipped out his bo staff.

"Now, these are ninjas," Jason said, raising his fists. "Sneaky little…"

Tim darted forward, taking the six on the left. The staff gave him a bit of an advantage, but against six people? It would hardly be enough to turn the tides. It was time to calculate.

Tim watched the team of six work as he held them off with his staff. They worked together well enough, but a couple didn't seem to know the martial arts style the other four were using quite as well. Were they trainees? Or was Ra's keeping the good ones closer, and taking guys off the bench to slow invaders down?

He had to be on the west side if he was going to that much effort to protect it.

A couple minutes gave Tim the opening he wanted. One of the trainees tried to mimic his friend, but his stance was too loose. Tim reached out and gave his back leg a little extra push; the boy toppled into his teammate, and they both fell. The other four tried to compensate, but Tim had tipped the balance. With only a few more moves, he had nullified the threat.

He glanced over to see Jason faring equally well. Tim's brow furrowed. This was unlike Ra's. If he was guarding something as precious—and as powerful—as Jeremiah Meyers, why wouldn't he send out the A-team first thing? Why hadn't he called in the League of Assassins? Surely some of those freaks would be hiding around the palace.

Jason tossed his last man to the floor and turned to Tim, panting slightly. "That was easy."

"Too easy," Tim said. "This feels wrong. Ra's would be more prepared than this."

"Seriously? You can't just give me the victory; you have to qualify it."

"These were hardly his best ninjas."

"Fine. So what now?"

"We find Ra's, and force some answers out of him."

Jason turned solemn in an instant. "I think he deserves more than that."

For once, Tim didn't scold him. His anger was justified, and Tim felt it, too. Anyone who hurt Sam the way Ra's did, had a world of hurt to look forward to themselves.

Tim expected the offense to get stronger as they went, but, to his utter bewilderment, it didn't. If anything, it got worse. It almost felt like Ra's was taunting them, sending out every low-grade ninja he could find.

What was he doing?

Tim and Jason reached the doors to Ra's' private study, after finally meeting a somewhat formidable force—fifty ninjas in a thick wall. They had gone down like bowling pins. Tim was truly worried now. Ra's was toying with them. Was the real threat hiding behind these doors?

"I don't like this," Tim said. "There's something we're missing, I know it."

"All I'm missing is the sweetness of my fist in his face," Jason growled. He took off his helmet and tossed it aside. "Won't need this. I want him to see me as I beat the living daylights out of him."

"Slow down," Tim cautioned. "We don't know what's inside. Ra's will probably be waiting with the entire League of Assassins."

"Or he doesn't even know we're here. Come on, Tim. I'm ready for this."

Tim sighed. He placed a hand to the doorknob. With a deep breath, he turned the knob and, gently, silently, pushed the door open.

The study was dark. But not "super-scary-pitch-black-evil-things-are-waiting" dark. It was just… dark. The lights were off. No one was home.

Tim searched every bookshelf for a secret passage, tapped every wall, examined every window. Jason searched through the plants, under the desk, behind the curtains.

Ra's was nowhere to be found. And not a ninja in sight.

"He's not here," Tim relayed through the coms. "Ra's. He's not in his study."

 _The east wing is abandoned,_ Nightwing reported. _I'd guess no one's been here for several days. He must have cleared out the moment he lost track of Sam._

 _Grandfather never retreats unless he has a good reason. He must have anticipated we would track him here, and abandoned the palace._

"What about Jeremiah?" Jason asked. "That's why we came here. At least tell me he's here."

 _Negative,_ said Batman. _We haven't seen him._

Jason huffed, his face crumpled with frustration. Then, before Tim could warn him off, Jay whipped out his guns and started shooting down the windows one by one, roaring with rage.

"Jay, stop it!"

Glass shattered and crashed to the floor, bouncing across Ra's' desk. Something caught Tim's eye: a piece of paper lying on top of a book, carefully folded into the shape of a bat. And Jason was about to shoot it.

"Jason, stop! Look!"

Tim's tone finally got through to him. Jason froze, his eyes scanning the wreckage. Before he could start again, Tim rushed forward and grabbed the little origami bat. As he unfolded it, something tumbled out onto the desk: a single com link. Tim glanced at it, then back at the paper, and the writing inside.

"I've got something," Tim said. "A note."

 _What does it say?_

Tim's brow furrowed. This was not good. Not good at all.

"It's a ransom note," he said. "Ra's left us a ransom note."

 _What does he want?_

"He has Jem; he doesn't say where." Tim glanced up, catching Jason's eye.

"He says, if we want him alive, we have to send Sam to get him. Alone."

/

Alfred started the evening well by begging me to go to bed every five minutes. Sometime close to midnight, he seemed to realize that I couldn't sleep; not tonight. He finally gave in and let me stay up. I had been at the Batcomputer ever since, wishing I could track the boys' progress inside the pocket dimension.

Alfred came back down to the cave with a glass of milk. "The sun's going to come up pretty soon. Any chance…?"

"No," I said, my eyes fixed on a game of Solitaire I had opened several hours in. "I'm not going to sleep."

"I was going to ask if you'd like to watch the sunrise," Alfred said.

"Why would I want to do that? It's freezing outside."

Alfred sighed and set the milk down. "Very well, Samantha."

Suddenly, I heard a rumbling sound coming from overhead. I jumped out of the chair, my heart pounding. The boys were back.

The Batplane descended into the cave, landing gently on its pad. The moment the engines shut down, I started running. I had to know right now. Had they found Jem? Had they brought back my brother?

They were starting to get out of the plane. Damian, Dick, Jason, Tim, and finally… Bruce. Where was…? Oh.

"You didn't find him," I said.

Jason shook his head. "Ra's packed up and left after you ran away. He took Jem with him."

"You said you'd find him."

"I promised to do everything I could," Jason shot back. "I did everything. He wasn't there."

"Then get back out there and find him!"

"We can't!"

I turned away, my hands shaking. I had to get all of this energy and anger and adrenaline out of me. I had to hit something. My eyes landed on a nearby rack of weapons, and Tim's spare bo staff. That'll do.

I grabbed the staff and started swinging. I hammered down on the weapon rack. Metal clattered against metal. Batarangs, escrima sticks, and shurikens fell from their perches, littering the floor. It wasn't enough. My grip tightened on the staff, and, with a cry as loud as thunder, I threw it as far as I could, watching it crash into the operating table on the far side of the room.

In the silence, I could finally hear my heart pounding, my breath panting. My chest shook with unshed tears.

Jeremiah was gone. I was supposed to see my brother today. Now he was gone.

"Sam," Dick said softly. "I'm sorry."

I ignored him and turned to Bruce. "What's our next move? Where did Ra's move to? Where has he got Jem?"

"We don't know," Bruce admitted. "But we did find something that might give us a clue."

He motioned to Tim, who produced two items from a pocket on his belt: a com link, and a wrinkled piece of paper.

"Ra's left these behind," Tim said, tentatively holding the items out to me. "The note says…"

"I can read, Tim."

Tim clamped his mouth shut as I scanned the note. It said that Ra's had Jem, and that if we wanted him alive, I had to come to Ra's on my own. No Batboys as backup. No weapons, and the only com link allowed was the one he had left for me. The note closed with a warning: if I told Batman and his crew where I was going, or did anything to enlist their help, Jem would be killed instantly.

I held out my hand. "Give me the com."

Tim hesitated.

"NOW!"

The item was placed gingerly in my hand. I quickly fitted it into my ear. "Alright, Ra's, I've gotten your message. What do you want?"

The line was silent for an eternity. I paced the cave floor, waiting. Surely he would know I had gotten the com. He was probably spying on us right now.

"I know you can hear me," I snapped. "Pick up, Ra's. Now!"

Nothing. I turned to see Bruce, Alfred, everyone staring at me, waiting, watching. Maybe they were the problem.

"Leave," I said.

"Sam—"

"He's probably not answering because he knows you're here."

"We're not going anywhere," Dick said.

"Yes, you are." I pushed Dick toward the cave entrance. "Go on, get. Go."

"Come on, Dick," Bruce said. "Let's give her some space. Alfred, come on."

I could tell several of them were very reluctant to go, but at last, they all left the cave. Something inside was already calling for them to return, wishing I hadn't been so snappish, but it was buried far too deep for me to act upon it. I turned, scowling, and started to pace again.

"Alright, Ra's, all my friends are gone. What do you want?"

At last, the line crackled, and a voice came through.

 _Sam? Sam, he-_ kchkt - _ick you. It's a-_ kchkt.

My breath caught.

That was Jem's voice.

I pressed my hand to my ear. "Jem? Jem, I'm here. Where are you?"

 _Sam_ , _don't come! It's a-_ kchkt.

I grabbed the back of the computer chair to steady myself. "Jem, where are you? Tell me, please!"

 _I'm—_

Jem's voice vanished. Tears stung my eyes as I said his name over and over, begging him to come back. But the line was silent, silent for minute after grueling minute. At last, I slid to the floor, weeping.

 _Hello, Samantha._

My breath shuddered in my lungs. _Ra's_.

I quickly swept the tears from my face. "What do you want?"

 _I want to tell you where I'm hiding your brother._

"I'm listening."

 _Alright. But you have to give me your word you won't tell the Detective. And I assume you know what is at stake, should you choose to betray me._

I swallowed hard. "Yes."

 _Good. Then listen close. I will only relay these instructions once._

I took a deep breath to calm my nerves. I had only one shot to learn and memorize every step. Nothing could distract me, not even worrying for my brother.

"What do you want me to do?"

/

Alfred collapsed into a chair. He couldn't believe how wrong things had gone. This was complete and utter madness, and Alfred could do nothing to fix it.

If only he could have stopped Ra's from taking Samantha in the first place.

"This is not good," Jason said, folding his arms. "Sam shouldn't be going out to face Ra's al Ghul alone."

"She's not facing him exactly," Tim said. "She's going to get her brother back. Ra's might not have the same goals as we do, but he is honorable. He doesn't just go around setting traps."

"Oh, so what do you think this is, then, Drake?" Damian snapped.

"An exchange," Tim said. "He's not just going to take Sam and leave; chances are, he's actually going to let Jem go once he has her."

"Even if he does let Jeremiah go," Damian said, "it's likely that my grandfather will have an assassin ready to take him out the moment he's free. If Jeremiah really did betray Ra's as badly as Samantha says, there's no way Ra's would let him live."

Alfred searched the faces surrounding him. "Well, surely none of you are planning to let Samantha do this on her own."

"Of course not," Bruce said pensively. "But we can't let Ra's know if we help her."

"Yeah, that'll be easy," Jason grumbled.

"Come on, Jay," Dick sighed. "You could at least try to think of ideas like the rest of us."

"Like what, Mr. Positive? Huh? If she talks to us, Ra's will know in an instant. We already know he knows where the cave is, and chances are, he's just sitting in front of a monitor watching our every move. How do you know he's not listening in on us right now?"

The room fell silent. Bruce's eyes flicked to the security camera in the far corner of the living room. Alfred knew what he was thinking. There had to be a way to hide from Ra's' prying eyes.

Suddenly, Dick straightened. Alfred could tell he was working very hard to hide the sudden glint of hope shining in his eyes.

"Bruce, I think we should take the rest of the day off. All I've done for four days is sit around here. Being back in Gotham, I want to go out and do things. See the old sights and such."

Alfred perked up. He knew what Dick was doing. It was a code. He saw the other slowly piecing the message together, listening carefully to the first letter of each sentence.

"So I think I'm going to go into town for the day. All of you should come, too. Forget about all this scheming and plotting for a while. Enjoy some time together."

Jason grinned. "Roger that, Dickie Bird."

"I'll collect my niece," Alfred said.

Bruce nodded at the door. "No need."

Alfred turned. Samantha was standing in the doorway, her face calm. But Alfred hadn't studied that face for years for nothing. Even if she hid it masterfully well, Alfred could see a flicker of fear behind those shaded eyes.

"Where are we going?" Samantha asked, walking nonchalantly into the room.

"Into the city," Dick said. "Just for some quality time."

Sam's brow furrowed. "I… maybe I should stay here."

"Nonsense," Alfred said, jumping to his feet. "You've been back for four days. It's time you got out of this dusty old manor."

He was rewarded with a hint of a smile. "I don't think I ever want to leave this place again."

"Don't be a spoilsport," Jason chimed in. "We're all going, and that's final. Now, come on. We're going to have to take two cars."

/

Babs was reasonably surprised to find all of us standing on the doorstep of her tiny city apartment at five in the morning, as was I. This wasn't exactly the city outing I was expecting. But the boys seemed to know what they were doing, so I went with it. Barbara ushered us in, and we all tried to find places to sit while she got a pot of coffee started.

Barbara snuggled into the couch between Dick and me and slung an arm around my shoulders. "So. To what do I owe the pleasure of… all of your company?"

"Just a night out," Dick said, catching her eye. "And a slice of homemade cherry pie."

Barbara's face hardened. "I can do that. Give me half a minute."

She grabbed her laptop from the coffee table and started typing faster than I'd ever seen anyone type. As I watched, her browser pages vanished and several others popped up, all densely coded and locked behind password after password. My eyes widened. I'd never seen Babs do this before.

"Done," she said, slamming the laptop closed. "Tim, wanna test me?"

Tim tucked his phone back into his jacket. "Already did. We're in the clear. By the way, where'd you get that silence protocol? I've been looking everywhere for—"

"On your own time, Timbo," Jason said.

Babs leaned back and looked around. "So? Why the secrecy?"

"We need to talk without Ra's hearing us," Bruce said.

I perked up. "Wait, that's why we came here? How did you all know that? Did I miss something?"

Alfred smiled. "You didn't think we'd let you do this on your own, did you?"

Barbara frowned. "What's this about Ra's? Did you find him?"

"In a way," Dick said. "He left us a note, saying he has Sam's brother and he wants her to come get him, alone."

"Well, that's not happening."

"And we're here to figure out how to avoid it," Bruce said. "Sam, you were in the cave for a while. Did Ra's talk to you?"

I nodded. "He did. He told me where he's hiding."

"Okay, so where is it?" Tim asked.

I hesitated. "Are you sure it's safe here?"

"Miss Gordon is better with security than anyone I know," Damian said. "If anywhere were going to be safe from my grandfather, her apartment would be it."

Babs blushed. "Pshaw. Thanks, D."

I took a deep breath. I didn't have to do this alone. A horrid knot deep in my stomach started to ease.

"He's on a boat at the harbor," I began. "He says I'll know it by the black flag he'll raise. I'm supposed to get on the boat, completely alone, with no weapons, and no coms. I'll be thoroughly searched, and they'll raise the gangplank as soon as I'm on to keep anyone else from boarding."

"So we'll have to be on land," Bruce said, already plotting. "Any other conditions?"

"He wants the whole transaction to take place on deck, probably so you guys can't pull any shenanigans while we're hidden in the hold. I come on board, he shows me Jem, we swap places and-theoretically-Jem goes free. He promised to leave once the transaction was complete."

"With you still on board," Damian said. "We need to find a way to get on that boat with you."

"Maybe there's a way to get into the hold from below," Tim said.

"Or we could submarine alongside..."

"No, there'll probably be radar. He'd see us coming."

"It's no use planning like this," Babs said. "He'll be expecting us to do things the usual way-stealth, gadgets, stuff like that. What we need to do is something completely unexpected."

Damian snorted. "What could you possibly think of that my grandfather wouldn't expect?"

The room went silent as people started thinking. I started to think, too. What if this was a chance for me to make things up to the universe? Atone for my sins by letting myself be taken? What if, by giving myself up, I gave Jem the chance to be free?

No. Knowing Ra's, he'd still kill Jem, even if I cooperated.

"This is all my fault," I whispered.

Barbara wrinkled her brow. "What?"

"It's my fault Jem's in trouble," I said a little louder. "If I hadn't disobeyed Ra's and run away, I could've protected him from the inside. But now he's just a bargaining chip to get me back, and Ra's will probably still kill him. I shouldn't even have tried to turn him. He would never have refused to kill that man, and never have displeased Ra's, and he'd still be—"

"You'd still be his prisoner right now," Jason said, sliding off his chair to sit at my feet. "Sam, I don't care how you got free, you got free. You're home. We're going to make the best of it."

"There's no way to make the best of this! No matter what we do, he's dead and it's my fault!"

"You don't know that."

I heard a buzz; Tim glanced down at his phone.

"Who is that?"

"It's Titans business," he said. "It's nothing."

"Can it be traced?"

"No, I—"

"Shut it off."

"It's fine." Tim held up his hands. "Just a call from…"

His face went slack. I could see the gears turning in his head.

"Ra's is going to be on a boat, right?"

I nodded. "Yeah, why?"

"I have a plan," Tim said, a little incredulous. "Not a whole one, but… I have a plan. I know how we're going to save Jem _and_ Sam."


	13. Chapter 12: Master and Meadowlark

**Chapter 12 - Master and Meadowlark**

I stood at the end of the pier, my gloved hands deep in the pockets of my coat. Sea spray landed in icy droplets on my cheeks as I stared out over Gotham Bay, waiting. Ra's had said he would be sailing a yacht, the kind rich people get for vacations and parties, except this one would be manned by ninjas and assassins, and would be flying a single black flag. My eyes scanned the length of the pier once more, but I still saw nothing matching Ra's' description.

This late in November, the usual boaters and fishers were safely inside their homes, leaving the joy of a cloudy sky and freezing wind to me and me alone. I felt even more alone knowing the Waynes were miles away from me. If our plan was going to work, they had to be completely hidden from Ra's, which meant out of sight, hearing, and radar range.

My finger brushed my ear, wishing for a com link. But I hadn't been allowed to bring one. Even the com Ra's had sent me was deemed dangerous, since Tim was perfectly capable of hacking into it.

I noticed a single yacht slipping silently up to the pier and glanced up.

Black flag. This was the one.

I waited until the boat had docked and a couple plainly dressed but noticeably bulky men jumped out to tether it to the pier. Then, one of the men subtly nodded to me. I walked forward and let him help me board. They wasted no time untying the yacht again. In a few seconds, we were sailing away from the pier and out into the bay.

Too late to turn back now.

A little welcoming party stood at the other end of the deck. At least seven ninjas, arrayed in a triangle behind their leader, the grinning, triumphant Demon.

"Samantha. At last."

Ra's al Ghul hadn't bothered to dress down; he stood tall in his emerald suit and cape, with a sword strapped to his side. He smiled at me as if I were a favored pet. It was a struggle to keep my fists at my sides.

"I'm impressed," Ra's said. "I thought you would have made a move by now. I suppose I broke you more than I first thought."

I stayed silent. Every word I spoke, he would simply absorb into his own ego.

"I understand," Ra's sighed, accepting a cup of tea from a servant. "You're not here to listen to me, you're here on a matter of business. A transaction."

He took a sip, closing his eyes. I could see him taking his guard down; I watched him remove all barriers. I knew what he was doing. He was testing me. But I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of taking the bait. He lowered the cup, and looked at me in fascination, his barriers snapping back into place.

"Interesting. Alright, then. Let's get on with it."

"I know you're a man of honor, Ra's," I said, projecting across the deck. "I'm sure you will take care to honor every part of our agreement."

Ra's nodded. "As will you. Search her, please."

I lifted my arms and let my thuggish escorts search me for weapons, devices, anything that might break the deal. I knew there was nothing. I had even picked my outfit specifically to minimize places I could hide something. If Ra's wanted my cooperation, then I'd cooperate.

"She's clear, sir," my escort called.

Ra's smiled. "Well. It's nice to know you are capable of following some instructions."

"You're turn, Ra's! Bring him up."

Ra's motioned to one of his lackeys, who turned and vanished into the hold. After a few minutes, he returned, half dragging, half carrying… my brother.

My heart ripped in half. He looked awful. His wrists bound too tight for comfort, his skin paler than paper, shaking like a leaf in the wind. They probably hadn't fed him since I left. And his eyes… there was no light behind them. He looked utterly defeated.

"Jem," I whispered. "I'm sorry."

He met my gaze and tugged at his captor's arm, a vain attempt at struggling. He made noises through the gag in his mouth, maybe trying to warn me of the trap I knew I was already caught in, maybe hurling his last desperate insults at the man who ruined his life—our lives. Ra's ignored everything with the lofty grace of a man who feels no pity.

If I weren't so far away, I would have spit in his eye.

"Let him go now, Ra's," I said. "That was our deal. You get me, he gets to go free."

"Then start walking," he replied.

I glanced at my escort, but they stayed planted. I was walking out alone. I took a deep breath and strode forward.

At the same time, Ra's' lackey tugged Jem across the deck. We met in the middle, and for the briefest moment, I considered reaching out, grabbing my brother, and running. But I had a plan to follow. I clenched my jaw and kept walking, even as he tried to meet my eye, speak to me, get my attention in any way.

One word spoken, and Ra's would kill Jem in an instant.

Once Jem had passed, I locked eyes with Ra's. I wanted him to feel my hatred. I wanted to burn into him the feeling of my face, my eyes seeing him for everything he is and all he's worth—nothing. I wanted to sear his heart with the heat of my rage. And I couldn't lift a finger against him, so this was the best I could do.

I finally reached him, standing an inch away. He smiled and put a hand on my shoulder.

"Welcome home, Samantha."

I could've ripped his heart out.

Ra's looked up over my head. "Let him go."

I turned to see Ra's' lackey lean Jem against the side of the boat. Jem found my gaze one last time, his eyes wild and terrified. Ra's' hand on my shoulder was the only thing keeping me in place. My brother… _my brother…_

Then the lackey pulled out a knife.

Before he could make a move, though, something shot out of the water, like the bay itself had come alive. It snapped the knife from the lackey's hand, then vanished— _plop—_ back into the waves.

A beat of silence held the deck spellbound. The lackey turned his shocked face from Ra's to the bay, one hand still gripping Jem's shirt, the other opening and closing, wondering where the knife had gone.

Then the sea itself rose up over the bow and deposited itself on the deck. It burst into a curtain of spray, through which I could just make out a dark figure moving quickly between the lackey and Jem. When the spray cleared, both the figure and Jem had disappeared.

A grin blossomed across my face. The plan _worked_.

Ra's and his crowd of ninjas swarmed to the port side, carrying me with. We could just make out the retreating wake left behind by Jem, riding on the back of my ally and new best friend, Kaldur'ahm, the Aqualad.

Ra's whirled on the men and women littering the deck and gaping at the escapees. "How did we miss him?!"

One of the ninjas shook her head in bewilderment. "I… I don't know, sir. I didn't catch anything on the radar but some fish."

Ra's fumed for a minute. Then, he grabbed me by the collar, flipped me around, and slammed me against the side of the boat. "You. You little minx!"

I laughed, knowing it would only make him angrier. "Did you really think I wouldn't make a plan? You'd be surprised how fast Aqualad can swim; Jem will be safe onshore in two minutes tops."

Ra's sneered. "I'd be impressed, except now there's no one to save you."

I bared my teeth. "I save myself."

And then I spat in his eye.

Ra's recoiled in disgust, giving me the perfect opening to start my attack. I grabbed the railing and kicked Ra's in the chest with both feet, toppling him to the deck. I hadn't been entirely honest; I only had to hold my own long enough for the Waynes to get Aqualad's signal and get their boat over here. But I still had to fight off the Demon Head and his henchmen, so having something to my back was a good idea.

Ra's didn't seem very interested in fighting one-on-one; instead, he stepped back and let his ninja lackeys come at me. If I had had music, it would have been an easy fight; as it was, I was outnumbered and overpowered, unless I could get them to come at me one at a time. So I ran to the space between the railing and the cabin; that forced them to line up and take turns.

Lackey number one. A foot to the face, knocked back into number two. Two recovers quickly and tries a punch. A grab and a flip sends two into three.

Four. Elbow to the nose as he tries to sneak up on me. I anticipate five and duck; five punches four, also in the nose. Four is out. Five gets her legs knocked out from under her and slides under the railing into the bay. She'll be fine.

Six. Six is wearing a headscarf. I grab hold of the scarf and swing up onto six's shoulders, trying to cut off his air supply.

Two and three make a comeback and try to knock me off six. I swing from six's neck and slam him into the deck. He's not out yet. I use his headscarf to tie three and two together. Then I stand up. Two and three are down again.

I could sure use some music.

I see a boat racing toward us from the other side of the bay. Backup is coming. But so is seven.

Seven. A kick to the knee and a punch to the throat. Not lethal, but very painful. Seven grabs my wrist and yanks. I haven't got my footing. I go down, and the back of my head hits the railing.

Ow. I try to control the pounding by closing my eyes. I can fight without them. I wrap my legs around seven's arm and mash his face into the deck. It feels good. But when I try to get up, my head starts to spin. That does not feel good.

There were definitely more than seven. Where's eight? I should be seeing eight right about now… there. Eight is… big. Very big. I dodge his first swing, nearly sliding off the boat. I grab the railing and haul myself up, get my feet under me and push off. Grab eight's hair and pull as I fall back to the ground. It just makes him mad.

Backup isn't coming fast enough. I dodge another swing, barely. Come on, boys, where are you? My head hurts… and I see Ra's. Ra's is watching me. He's standing behind eight, just watching. Ow… come on, Sam. Come on.

Where are they?

/

Alfred watched the rippling wake slowly approach the pier from the shelter of the car. Thank goodness, he didn't have to stand out in the cold to wait. But the ripple was getting closer. He would have to get out soon.

Alfred didn't quite know what he was going to do when it got to him. He was about to meet his grand-nephew for the first time since the boy was five. He didn't know what to expect—not what he looked like, or what either of them would say, let alone whether the boy remembered him or not. But ever since Sam went off on that boat and the mission had started, Alfred had felt nervous, jittery, as if he was about to meet Jeremiah for the first time in his life.

And he already felt so much love for him that his chest felt like it would burst.

The ripple was close enough. Alfred hurried to open the door and get out. He ran for the edge of the pier, hardly aware of the cold.

Aqualad arrived just a few seconds later. He helped Alfred haul Jeremiah out of the water and onto the dock. Then he climbed up himself.

"How is he?" Aqualad asked.

Alfred carefully laid his nephew down and knelt over him. The boy was awake, but just barely, and he was shivering from the cold.

"Blankets," Alfred snapped. "Back seat of the car. Go."

Aqualad rushed to retrieve the desired items. Alfred took each as they came and started wrapping Jeremiah in layer after layer of warm wool. And with each layer, he said something to comfort the quivering boy: "You're alright. I've got you. You're safe now."

Then he was out of blankets. Alfred sat back, his heart still pounding, trying to think what to do next, and realizing that he didn't have to do anything. As Alfred calmed down, it dawned on him that his nephew was finally safe. He was here, cradled in Alfred's lap, and slowly starting to look more alive.

And at long last, Alfred got to really see the boy's face. Jeremiah looked just like his father. Even dripping wet, his hair looked like Charles'. And he had the same nose, the same chin, the same eyes. That mouth was definitely Daphne's, though.

Jeremiah noticed he was being examined, and his eyes met Alfred's. He squinted. "Y-you… look familiar."

Alfred laughed breathlessly. "I'm your uncle, Alfred."

Jeremiah blinked slowly and sleepily. "Of course… seen you… on the computer."

Alfred smiled and brushed the boy's hair from his forehead. "Go ahead and rest. We can catch up later… nephew."

Jem nodded off instantly. Alfred heaved a sigh and closed his eyes, feeling the weight of Jeremiah's head in his lap. His dear nephew, thought dead for twelve years, was finally back.

Aqualad tapped his shoulder. "Mr. Pennyworth? I'm going to head back out, just in case they need help. Will you be alright on your own?"

"Yes, of course. Go on." Alfred gazed down at the sleeping Jeremiah. "I think it's time we went home."

/

I was definitely not going home this time. Eight had me in a headlock in seconds, and Ra's just smiled at me. That snake smiled. I wanted nothing more than to punch his teeth in.

"Are you going to come quietly now, Samantha?" Ra's asked.

I pounded my fist on eight's arm. "Like I'd ever," I growled.

"Alright." Ra's nodded to eight. "Take her out."

Suddenly, one of the ninjas came running from below. "Sir, there's a submarine coming straight for us!"

Ra's turned livid. He pointed a menacing finger in my face. "You. You broke our agreement."

"I said I'd get on your stupid boat," I spat, grinning. "I never said I wouldn't bring backup."

"Sir, we need to brace-"

 _K-THUNK._

Ra's' boat jumped in the water as Batman's submarine rammed into it from below. The boat rocked wildly as it settled, sending everyone reeling—including Mr. Eight. He tripped and fell on his side, knocking his arms out of the headlock position. I broke free, lightning quick, swung around and kicked him in the head. He was at the very least dazed, but I didn't have time to check. There were still plenty of Ra's' men, and after the arrival of the sub, even more of them had stumbled up to the deck. I had some more fighting to do.

But now, I wasn't alone.

The boat had barely finished righting itself when five hooks latched onto the port railing, five lines reeled in, and five pairs of boots landed on deck. Nightwing gave a cocky grin.

"Surprise!"

Ra's pointed a quivering finger, his face quickly turning purple with rage.

"Get them off my boat!"

The four boys rushed past me and engaged the hoard of ninjas Ra's set on them. But Batman stayed back and turned to me.

"Are you alright?"

"Fine…"

Bruce put a hand under my chin. "You hit your head?"

"I… yes."

"Follow my finger. Do you feel dizzy?"

I pushed his hand away. "I'll be fine. Did you see, is my brother safe?"

"Alfred just radioed. He's driving him home now."

"Good." I looked over at Ra's, now battling his grandson, katana on katana. "Let's finish the mission."

"I think not, Samantha," Ra's yelled, blocking Damian's swing. "You didn't think I wouldn't have a contingency plan, did you?"

He thrust Damian's katana aside and kicked him across the deck. Then, with one hand, he reached into his suit jacket and pulled out… that little rectangular box from before. The one he'd been holding back when I chose music. Why did he have that? What did it…?

Oh.

With a triumphant smile, Ra's hit a small button on the box. My head spun once as something clicked into place.

"Bruce—"

Music started playing—playing in my brain. All outside noises dulled, and only Ra's' voice could penetrate the sudden cloud of fury which blurred my mind.

 _The Demon commands_.

"Samantha," Ra's cried. "Attack the Bat and his associates!"

I turned to Batman. I saw red, every one of his bad or unjust decisions becoming clear in my memory. I put a hand on his shoulder and slammed his head down into my knee.

The Bat instantly started fighting back, but I had the advantage: surprise and superpowers. I worked him down to the ground, then raised my fist to knock him out.

Someone grabbed my arm. I growled and turned to see a mask. Red Robin tried to pull me off his master. Fine by me; he was a target, too. He wore a sort of cape. I could use that. Speed and precision; I danced behind him and pulled the cape over his head, wrapping it around and around, then knocked his feet from under him, pinning him down with a knee to the back.

Nightwing came at me next. I noticed he was favoring his left hand; his right must've gotten hit while he was fighting the Demon's men. I lunged at him and grabbed hold of the right hand, twisting it behind his back. Nightwing moved as if to hit me, but I could tell he was holding back. I ducked and grabbed his other wrist, then flipped him over my shoulder and headfirst into the deck.

I heard a fist flying toward me and turned to face my next opponent.

And then… the music died.

I gasped. Damian froze mid-swing, and we sat there, staring at each other in shock.

It was… so silent.

I looked around frantically, searching for the little box. Who had it now? Friend or foe?

Jason stood before Ra's, pressing him to the wall of the hold. In one hand, he held a gun to Ra's' chin. The other was outstretched toward me.

It held the box.

"Nobody move, or I shoot!" Jason yelled.

He sounded as mad as I had felt five seconds ago. The ninjas must have believed him, because they all froze stiff.

"Hood!" Bruce cried from the other side of the boat. "Don't do it! Put it away, now."

"No!" Jason tightened his grip on the trigger. "Not after what he did to Sam."

"This is not the way," Bruce snapped, striding across the deck. "I told you to put it away, Red Hood, now do it."

"Jay," I cried, catching his eye. "Do as he says."

I couldn't see his face behind the helmet. The hand holding the box was shaking; I knew he wasn't scared, which meant he was beyond angry. For the first time, I realized he might do it. He might kill Ra's, here and now.

And I wouldn't mind.

That thought finally got me. I felt my chest constrict, my heart start to pound. Fantastic; Jason was gonna kill a man, and now I was freaking out. I turned and staggered to the railing. My eyes fell on Bruce; his nose was still bleeding badly from my knee to the face. My vision blurred; I saw a man lying in his bed with a wound in his neck, bleeding, dead.

My chest hurt with the force of holding back a scream. My heart was trying to escape my ribcage. Get me off this boat…

Someone grabbed me and forced me to sit. I looked up and saw Dick. He brushed a sweaty strand of hair out of my eyes.

"Sam, you need to take a deep breath, okay? Just sit."

"No," I said. "Get me off. Off the boat, now, Dick."

Dick put a hand on my back. "We will, just… right now, you need to stay still. Sit here and breathe. I'll sit with you."

"Sam?"

I glanced over at Jason. His head was turned toward me, and his grip on the gun seemed a little lighter.

"You okay?"

I nodded. I was already starting to think more clearly. I forced air into my lungs, and forced it out. In, out. In, out. Maybe, if Jason saw I was alright, he wouldn't do anything stupid.

Jason turned back to Ra's. For a moment, he just stood there, thinking, deciding.

He raised the gun, but only to hit Ra's over the head and knock him out. He whirled on the crowd of ninjas littered across the deck.

"All of you. Off the boat. Now."

One of them stepped forward. "We will never surrender. Not while—"

Damian came up from behind and knocked him out with the hilt of his katana. He glared at the rest.

"Anyone else? No? Then take this advice from the grandson of the Demon: when we tell you to surrender, you surrender. Now, get off my boat."

There was a beat of tense stillness. Then, as silent as the wind, every last ninja raced to the starboard side and jumped over. I waited to hear a splash, but none came; instead, I caught the hum of an engine, and a second later, we all saw a ninja-packed speedboat go driving off toward the horizon.

At last, Jason slid his weapon back into its holster, shooting me a glance.

"You alright, Sam?"

I nodded, but I didn't get a chance to speak. Bruce reached Jason then, grabbed his shoulder and whirled him around.

"Don't you ever do that again. I don't care how angry you get, you never use guns, and you never. _Ever_. Kill."

"I wasn't going to."

"Don't lie to me, Hood! You know you were."

"Alright, fine!" Jason reached up and yanked off his helmet. "I did want to! Don't you remember what this piece of garbage did to Sam?"

"Uh, guys?" Tim pointed behind Jason. "Ra's is gone."

Jason looked behind him. Sure enough, the Demon Head was nowhere to be seen. He threw his hands in the air. "Oh, and now he's vanished. That's great, Bruce, just great. Thanks for distracting me when I should've kept all my attention focused on him!"

"You were already distracted."

"Of course. Nothing's good enough for you, huh?"

"Can we stop this, please?" Dick asked, folding his arms. "I hate to be the mom friend, but you two need to pipe down, settle your differences, and get on the sub so we can all go home. Okay?"

Jason set his jaw. "Fine. I'm sorry, Bruce. Happy?"

"No," Bruce snapped, shoving Jason aside. He stormed to the port side, wiping blood off his face. "Let's go."

Dick helped me to my feet. I was surprised Ra's had left the submarine behind, until I remembered that all of Bruce's vehicles had a remote recall system. Ra's must have taken some kind of personal escape pod; that, or he was just hiding on the yacht until we left. But we didn't see him as we piled into the submarine and left the beat-up boat behind. Honestly, I was okay with that. I'd be okay if I never saw him again.

As we sped through the water, Jason came over to me and pulled Ra's' magical little box out of his jacket. He held it up to the light and turned it over.

"What should we do with this?"

"Destroy it," I said. "I don't ever want to be used like that again."

"Sounds like a plan. I'll chuck it off a cliff when we get back to the cave."

"No. We have to be sure it's destroyed."

"Want to do it now?"

"Please."

Jason leaned over to Damian. "Hey, kid, can I borrow your sword for a sec?"

Damian narrowed his eyes. "Why?"

Jason just held up the box. Damian nodded and handed over his katana.

"Be my guest."

Jason took the katana and stared at the box for a minute. Then, he handed both to me.

"I think you should do it, Sam."

Yeah; I did want to do it. I took a deep breath and accepted both items. The others watched closely as I set the box on the floor and stood over it.

"Please don't break my submarine," Bruce said, a hint of humor in his voice.

I nodded. Then, taking a careful stance, I raised the katana over my head.

With a cry of rage, I brought the tip down and speared the box through.

Instantly, a shock of pain zapped through my head. I winced and slapped a hand to the nape of my neck. But just as quickly as it came, the pain vanished. I knew what it meant; the box's connection to my chip had been finally and completely severed.

"You good, Sam?" Jason asked.

I straightened and sighed.

"Yeah. I'm good."


	14. Chapter 13: The Problem Child

**Chapter 13 - The Problem Child**

The rest of the ride home was relatively quiet, which gave Bruce a little time to cool off and think. The mission was complete; Jem was safe, and they had won. That was good, obviously. But Bruce wasn't at all pleased with how the mission had gone. It had crossed his mind that Ra's might try to turn Sam against them, but he hadn't been prepared for it to actually happen, especially so quickly. He had underestimated Ra's' control, as well as just how powerful Sam was with her chip on. He should have made learning more about the chip and her powers a top priority from day one.

And then there was Jason. Jason _knew_ that Bruce didn't approve of guns. He could tolerate their limited and nonlethal use, perhaps, but Jason had been far too emotional. What if he had killed Ra's? Not only would that have made it harder to escape the downward spiral of an unhealthy mindset, the repercussions of killing Ra's al Ghul would be devastating. The League of Assassins would probably have his head within a week.

On top of that, once they reached the cave, there would be even more complications. Jeremiah would be there, which meant, first, that Alfred would be busy taking care of the starved and injured boy for at least a day or two, and second, that the rest of the family would have to sit down and really talk about what they were going to do with him. Bruce couldn't just ignore the fact that Jeremiah Meyers had spent the last twelve years as Ra's al Ghul's ward. Jeremiah was a member of the League of Assassins, a thief, and a killer. His crimes were not erased just because Sam said he was family. Bruce knew plenty of heroes—Kaldur'ahm himself being an example—who were related to some of the worst villains in the database. Justice couldn't bend over backwards for love.

 _Tap tap._

Bruce glanced up. Kaldur was swimming alongside the sub. He raised a hand in greeting and shot forward, diving down into the tunnel that led to the Batcave. Bruce followed close behind him; the sub docked and its passengers disembarked. Bruce pulled back his cowl as he mounted the stairs to the main floor, where Alfred was waiting.

"Welcome back, sir," Alfred said. "I've set out some sandwiches, drinks, and tea; you all should eat and warm up." He glanced down the stairs. "And thank you for bringing my niece back in one piece."

"How is he?" Bruce asked, grabbing a sandwich and making a beeline for the computer.

"Jeremiah is stable and resting. He'll need nourishment and a lot of down time, but he should be right as rain before Christmas."

"Christmas," Samantha laughed. "I forgot about Christmas."

Jason slung an arm around her shoulders. "Don't you worry. The Wayne house does Christmas like nobody else. You won't be disappointed."

Bruce shot Jason a look. He didn't get to be happy; not right now. Jason's face instantly soured.

Alfred motioned to Samantha. "Do you want to see him?"

Sam nodded breathlessly and trotted after her uncle. Bruce watched them go with a frown. It was clear how much Sam loved her brother. She would have to learn to separate her feelings from common sense if they were going to move the discussion of Jeremiah's fate forward.

Jason was trying to get to the elevator unnoticed. Bruce barked across the cave, "Jason. Stay here, I need to talk to you."

"Yeah, I'm sure," Jason mumbled, slinking back and snatching up a smoothie.

"Kaldur's leaving," Tim reported, perching behind Bruce's chair. "Do you want to say thanks, or… what are you doing?"

"Just checking. Ra's left in the middle of the battle, meaning he had an escape vehicle that we might be able to track."

"Track?" Tim said. "We got Jeremiah, why would we need to track him?"

"Yeah, I'd rather leave that bee's nest alone, if we can," Dick said. "We have what we wanted; can't we let him go?"

"Not just yet," Bruce said. "I need to find his partner."

"Partner?"

"Julian Li," Damian said. "The man Ra's helped to invent Samantha's biochip. I assume you're hoping to get more information on said chip?"

"Exactly. I want to make sure Ra's can't control her again."

"We destroyed the controller Ra's had," Tim said. "Sam said she felt the connection die. Unless you think there could be another one?"

"Ra's al Ghul will have a back-up. If not, Li might be able to make one. Ra's would have planned for something like this, I'm sure of it."

"So we find the other controller, or controllers, and destroy them. Easy; no more mind control."

"Is it mind control?" Dick asked. "Are we sure it isn't some form of hypno—"

"No," Jason interrupted. "It's not hypnosis. Hypnosis is about freeing yourself; it's about doing something you want to do with no inhibitions. But it can't overcome moral codes; it can't force you to be something you're not. And Sam is not a killer."

Bruce clenched his fists. "Are you, Jason?"

Jason didn't answer. The cave went deadly silent. Bruce glanced up to see Sam and Alfred standing a few feet away, watching, waiting.

"Did you hear—"

"I heard the question," Jason said, setting his drink aside. "How do you want me to answer?"

"Ideally, 'no.'"

"And how do you expect me to answer?"

Bruce stood. "Just answer the question, Jason."

"Just admit that you're disappointed in me and be done with it."

"You know how I feel about guns. I want to know how you feel about using them."

"I feel like you're a coward."

"Jason," Sam snapped.

"Why are we having this conversation?" Jason yelled. "Whatever I say, you're going to be mad."

"We're having this conversation because I don't want you to think you can get away with shooting people."

"So you've never wanted to put a bullet through the guy who hurt someone you love?!"

Bruce kept his mouth shut. He wasn't going to let himself get caught like that. Jason set his jaw, his eyes flashing.

"I forgot. You'd rather let the bad guy walk than avenge your family."

Jason stormed away, leaving Bruce with a cloud of guilt hanging over his head, heavy with unspoken words. But he couldn't chase after Jason now. The farther away Ra's got, the less likely it was Bruce could track him. He turned back to the computer and tried to ignore the eyes that kept turning to stare at him, as if he would explode any second.

/

Bruce ascended to the manor hours later, when the sky had gone dark and everyone was asleep.

Almost everyone, that is. Samantha was still in the cave, sitting at her brother's bedside. Bruce had caught a glimpse of her when he left. She had one hand holding his, and her head rested on the bed next to him. She had been so peaceful, so silent, that Bruce had assumed she was asleep. But then her head rose from her arm, and she gave Bruce a smile. It warmed his heart to see that smile again.

As he stepped out of the elevator into his study, Bruce discovered that there was one more person still up. Alfred, of course.

"Burning the midnight oil again, Alfred?" Bruce asked.

"I was actually going to relieve Samantha of her post, sir."

Bruce shook his head fondly. "I don't think that's necessary. She looked pretty happy down there. And don't worry about rest; she's practically asleep already."

Alfred set aside the thermos he was carrying. "I suppose I'll have to drink this tea myself, then. Unless you'd care to join me?"

Bruce moved to his favorite armchair and sat. "I'd love to."

Alfred removed the cap from the thermos. "You don't mind using this as a cup?"

"Not at all."

"Apologies for not bringing the fine china; it's in rather a different part of the manor, and I'd prefer not to walk."

As Alfred poured, Bruce turned his face to the windows set in one side of the study. The gardens glowed with early winter snow, lighting the darkness with a pristine blanket. It was so quiet and calm… maybe he could just fall asleep here.

But then that awful memory came back. Bruce winced as he heard himself again, arguing angrily; he heard Jason's response, the biting insult, the deadly silence in its wake.

"What do I do, Alfred?"

Alfred handed the tea to his master. "About what, Master Bruce?"

"About Jason." Bruce massaged his temple. "I just… don't know what to… how to… I worry sometimes that I haven't done enough. That he'll never understand why I have my rules, what they're for. I'm worried that he's too far gone already."

Alfred lowered himself into a second armchair, swirling the contents of the thermos. "I've always had trouble following Master Jason's motives, sir. But, if it helps, I know his heart is in the right place, even if he goes about things the wrong way."

"And that's what I keep grasping at. I keep trying to tell him that we're working toward the same thing. I need him to understand that my rules aren't there to stop him from doing the right thing, they're there to stop him from doing the wrong thing."

"In all fairness, sir… telling is not your strong suit. Nor is it his. You and Master Jason as far more adept at showing. May I remind you that when he returned, instead of coming to you to talk, he set up an elaborate plot to get in your head and test your response? Not to mention, the entire philosophy behind Batman is to be a symbol of justice—to show, not tell."

"I get it," Bruce sighed. He took a swig of tea. "So we're bad at communicating verbally. What are my other options?"

"Unfortunately, sir… I don't believe there is a way to show him the sort of thing you're wanting to communicate. Unless, of course, you have an example for why using guns and killing people hinders the administration of justice. I may point out that the GCPD is quite liberal in its use of firearms to achieve peace. And… there's myself, sir."

Bruce frowned. "I let you use guns because they're one of the only means you have to protect yourself."

"I beg to differ, but please continue."

"Jason… he has years of training. He's in peak physical condition, can use nearly any kind of weapon known to man, and yet, he constantly returns to guns." Bruce downed the rest of his tea. "I don't understand it."

"I hate to advocate using a third party, but I will admit, Master Timothy seems to have a… more peaceful relationship with him than you do. Perhaps he could act as a go-between."

"Tim?" Bruce chuckled. "If I chose anyone as a go-between, it'd be Sam."

Alfred's hand hovered over the thermos. "Really?"

"Jason seems to have formed a real attachment to her. And she's clever; if anyone could get a clear, honest answer out of Jason, it's her."

Alfred blinked and lifted the thermos to his lips. "Yes, I suppose so."

Bruce peered thoughtfully at his butler. "You seem unconvinced. Is there something wrong."

Alfred took a tense sip of tea. "Sir, I… it's hard to explain."

"I'm a good listener."

"Yes, it must come from dressing up as a bat every night." Alfred blew out his breath. "She's so different now. I look at her, and I don't recognize her. I don't know what she's capable of, or what she's thinking. I'm not even sure if she still takes her tea the same way."

"She's enhanced."

"She's my niece," Alfred snapped. "She's not supposed to be enhanced, she's supposed to be happy."

Bruce didn't answer. After a moment, he set the thermos cap on the table and stood. "We can deal with Sam later. We have more pressing matters to deal with, starting with a good night's sleep."

"Once upon a time, sir, I was the one ordering you to bed," Alfred mourned.

Bruce managed a smile. "I like it better your way."

/

I tried not to fall asleep, but human nature always wins out. One moment, I was holding Jeremiah's hand and singing softly, and the next, I was waking up, one side of my face smooshed into the covers on the bed.

I lifted my head and rubbed the sleep out of my eyes. I felt well rested, which meant I must have been asleep for a while. I squinted across the cave.

"Computer, what time is it?"

A clock appeared. 7:46 a.m.

"So it's morning," I mumbled to myself. I glanced at my brother. "You gonna wake up?"

Silence. I took that as a no. I got to my feet and stretched.

"I wonder if Alfred's up," I continued. "I'm so hungry…"

"Yeah… me, too."

I gasped and looked down.

Jem was awake, and smiling.

"Jem!" I laughed. I bent down and planted a kiss on his forehead. He moved one hand weakly, like he was trying to give me a hug; it was such a feeble attempt, I nearly started crying. I took his hand and kiss it, then laced my fingers with his and sighed.

"I missed you."

"I missed you, too."

"How are you feeling?"

Jem grimaced. "I feel like my limbs are bricks. And my head's a brick. And I have bricks stacked on top of me."

"I'm sorry," I pouted. "I wish I could do something to make you more comfortable, but I think this is the best bed in the cave."

Jem frowned, then blinked curiously at his surroundings. "The cave?"

"Oh… yeah, I should… you're in the Batcave, Jem."

Jem raised his eyebrows. "This place? It looks smaller on Ra's' computer. I didn't realize how big that penny was."

"Yeah, it's pretty spectacular down here. Sorry you can't move around. Alfred says at least three days in bed."

"Alfred," Jem breathed. "Yes, I… met him."

"I know." I fidgeted with the hem of my shirt. "What, uh… what do you think of him?"

Jem smiled. "I like him, Sam. Anything I ever said against him, that was… Ra's talking. I misjudged him." His smile dimmed. "I think I misjudged a lot of things."

I slid my hand over his. "We can help you, Jem. We'll help you figure things out."

"You and the Detective."

I nodded. "Yes, me and… Batman, and Alfred, and all the others. Two of them have already come back from under Ra's' influence."

Jem winced. "I'm not… please don't say it like that."

"Sorry. I meant… they found a better way. They learned to—"

"Avoid killing people to solve the world's problems?"

I laughed, though it wasn't really a joke. "I guess."

Jem sighed, his eyes searching the ceiling. "That's just it, though. I… do doubt his methods. I'd rather not kill if it means we… _I_ hurt innocent people, like you or Alfred. But Ra's did have a point. The world is so broken, sometimes we have to do drastic things to make any kind of change. And I do want to help the world; I want to make it a better place. But I'm… confused. I don't know how to make a difference if I'm… if…" He bit his lip, searching for the right words. "Without Ra's… I don't think there's much I can do."

I rubbed Jem's hand with my thumb and thought. "I admit, I admired some of Ra's' ideas myself. He has a good goal. I think he wants peace and order just as much as Batman does. Maybe Batman is the key to you figuring this out. Maybe you're here for a reason—so he can help you."

"I don't think this is the right place." Jem's eyes traced the stalactites. "I can't quite trust… no. I don't… I don't have…"

"You don't think you're ready to trust the Waynes yet."

"Exactly." Jem smiled ruefully. "You have a knack for finding the right words."

I chuckled. "You should've heard me when I first came to Wayne Manor. I held an entire conversation using 'nice' as my only descriptor."

Thinking about it made me feel a little homesick for those simpler days. I tightened my grip on Jem's hand.

"I was a little lost then, too. Do you know what helped?"

"What?"

I smiled. "Alfred. Him and his cooking are just about the best remedy there is for a confused and lonely mind. I'm glad you've finally gotten to meet him. I know he's really happy you're here. He missed you as much as I did."

Jem didn't smile back. His eyes went somewhere deep and far away. "Does he… know?"

"About what?"

"That I've killed people. Does he or doesn't he?"

"He does. I told him. I'm sorry if I shouldn't have."

"No, don't be." Jem sighed deeply. "Is he disappointed in me?"

I started to reply, then closed my mouth. How should I know if Alfred was disappointed in him? I didn't even know for sure that he wasn't disappointed in me. Alfred was accepting and kind, but that didn't mean he didn't have deeper, more secret feelings.

"I'm not sure," I said. The answer felt empty, insufficient.

Jem squeezed my hand. "It's alright. I'm used to it now."

"Jem…"

"Honestly, I am. Once you've disappointed Ra's al Ghul, everyone else is just mildly displeased in comparison."

"You know, if you want to be absolutely sure, I know Alfred is willing to talk. I'm sure he'd be appeased with even a simple 'sorry.'"

Jem barked a laugh. "I think this is bigger than 'sorry,' Sam."

I bit by lip. "So… you want to… what, prove yourself?"

"Maybe."

"How?"

"I… don't know. But I can't do it from here." Jem shifted under the covers, even though the movement made him wince. I could tell he was getting restless. "I think I need to go out and find the answers for myself. You've always been fine with just talking things through, but… I need to move. To feel. I need to act."

I bowed my head, staring at our fingers intertwined. "So… you want to leave?"

"I think I do. Not forever. But… I need a little… time."

I nodded. "Alright. I understand. But just… come home quickly. I don't want to spend another twelve years without you."

"Neither do I." Jem smiled. "I love you, Sam."

"Love you, too."

Jem gave me another grin. That was definitely sympathy in his eyes. He really felt bad for doing this. But I understood; he needed some time and space to figure out who he was without Ra's al Ghul. I probably needed a little time, too.

Ra's had done his best to break us. The damage he did couldn't be fixed overnight. But, by golly, we were going to put ourselves together again.

/

Jason wandered down to the cave, a bagel in his hand and a cloud of anger in his head. He couldn't let go of yesterday's argument; he kept thinking of new things he could have said, new ways he could have wiped that self-righteous look off Bruce's face. The scenarios wouldn't stop, and honestly, he was getting pretty tired of it.

He hoped to find Sam down in the Batcave; maybe she could help him calm down and think things through. But when he arrived, Sam was gone; the only other person there was Jeremiah, awake and very obviously bored. Jason had already strode several feet in when he noticed; he stopped in his tracks and immediately started thinking of reasons to leave.

"Hello," Jeremiah called across the cave. "You're Jason Todd, correct?"

"Yep." Jason waved half-heartedly. "Hi." He glanced around. How quickly could he get out of this situation?

"I believe we've fought before."

Well, that caught Jason's attention. He squinted at Jeremiah. "When?"

"Well, not including our brief skirmish at the Gotham docks, I had the… misfortune to stand against you once while I was still training."

Jason cocked his head. "You mean… back at Ra's' place?"

"Yes," Jeremiah said, trying to maneuver into a sitting position. "You—"

Suddenly, the kid froze and winced. His face went pale so fast, Jason thought he was going to pass out. Jason ran across the cave and caught him.

"You okay?"

Jeremiah closed his eyes. "One minute… sorry."

Jason sighed and started propping him up. "Don't be sorry. You took a heck of a beating. Just don't die on me, or Sam'll have my head."

Jeremiah laughed. "I don't doubt it." He settled in, and some color started to return to his cheeks. "Thank you."

Jason shrugged. "Hey, I'm not gonna just stand there and let you hurt yourself. I'm not a complete jerk."

"I've heard," Jeremiah said. He glanced up. "It was while you were catatonic, by the way."

"What?"

"The time I fought you. It was when Talia was caring for you while your mind was still… not present. She brought me in, saying it would be good training. But I think I was still too young. You beat me in half a minute." Jeremiah shuddered. "And your face never changed."

Jason made a face. "'Kay, that's weird."

"Sorry."

"No, it's fine. I just don't remember it, obviously."

Jeremiah nodded. Then, after a brief pause, he said, "I heard you, you know. When you were, ah, _debating_ with the Detective. I wasn't able to get up or move, but I could hear just fine."

Jason pinched the bridge of his nose. "Lovely. Sorry if we woke you; we just… really don't agree on some things."

"Why do you stay?"

Jason frowned. "What?"

Jem spread his hands wide. "That man is forcing you into a corner. He's ordering you around like… like Ra's al Ghul did with me."

"Okay, but you agreed with him."

"Not always. But, then, I was practically raised by him. I was just barely old enough to remember that I had a family when he took me. I'm lucky I managed to see the flaws in his plan at all."

Jason stared at Jeremiah for a moment. Then he grabbed chair and sat. "You know, I don't get that."

"Get what?"

"Why would you switch sides, just like that? Was it Sam? Some kind of divine intervention? I mean, if he raised you since you were five, why would you turn on him?"

Jeremiah thought, his eyes fixed on his hands. "Because… I realized for the first time that he was wrong. I had been following his orders from day one, trusting blindly that he was right. But when Sam came and started questioning me, I started to question him. And I saw things I hadn't before. I could actually see the difference after he used the Pit. I could tell when he was a little more violent or belligerent than usual. And I started to hear voices—"

"Whoa, now."

"Not in that way. I experienced the feeling of having another opinion. I could imagine my mother and father talking to me about killing, so vividly that I could almost see them. And then came the day that Ra's ordered me to kill Faise, and… the voices were stronger. My dad in particular kept saying, 'This is wrong. This is not who I raised you to be, not the life I wanted for you.' And I stopped. I couldn't carry through. So… I guess that's why I abandoned his ways."

Jason stared at his hands. His mind was racing through all these words and ideas, trying to catch onto something real. "So… you left because you couldn't stand to obey anymore?"

"Because I had to. I couldn't accept his way as right anymore."

"Hm."

Jeremiah cocked his head. "You're in the same place, aren't you? You disagree too much with the Detective to stay in his service."

Jason hung his head. "It doesn't feel like we should disagree. We made up a long time ago; we agree on so much. But then something happens, anything, little or big, and we lose it. We go at each other like alley cats fighting over old bacon. And I realize we can have the same mission and still never see eye to eye."

"Maybe you need to rethink your mission. It might not be the same after all. Maybe you need to learn how to be your own man."

"So I just… leave?"

Jeremiah shrugged. "You shouldn't stay just to please him. Don't serve a master who forces you to do things you believe are wrong or unjust."

"Yeah." Jason tapped his chin. "I guess so."

"Think about it. And I'm here to talk if you need it." Jeremiah smiled. "I'm not going anywhere."

Feeling a little dazed, Jason got up and started to leave. Jeremiah had given him the help and council he had been looking for; it was some of the best advice he had heard. Maybe he had the right idea. Maybe it was time to leave.

At the last second, Jason turned. "Hey!"

Jeremiah looked up. "Yes?"

Jason grinned. "Thanks, Jeremiah."

The kid smiled again, his brow furrowed in thought. "Sam calls me 'Jem.' If you'd like… you can call me that, too."

Jason nodded. "In that case, thanks… Jem."

"Anytime."


	15. Chapter 14: Exodus

**Chapter 14 – Exodus**

Jason was the first to go.

I accidentally overheard him and Bruce the day after we rescued Jem. I was playing with Pennyworth the cat—who seemed to finally like me—outside Bruce's office, when my ear picked up the sound of voices. They were… _talking._ I didn't eavesdrop for long, but I definitely heard things I wasn't supposed to.

"See, this is your strategy," Jason argued. "You avoid. Avoid, avoid, avoid. You send Alfred to talk to me. You send Tim. You even send Damian, like he's some sort of poster child for conforming to your standards. You steer clear of me like I'm a bomb, hoping that somehow, I'll turn out alright. Well, here I am! Your glorious creation! You happy with it?"

"I'm not avoiding you, Jason, I'm avoiding _this._ " Bruce sounded exhausted, and dangerously calm. " _This_ is the reason we can't talk face to face—the reason we've never gotten anywhere productive. We can't sit down and have a reasonable conversation."

"Don't pin this on me," Jason hissed. "Don't you dare to _insinuate_ that I am at fault here. Because unless I'm mistaken, you're the one forcing everybody to follow your rules. Your way or the highway, isn't that right?"

"I made the rules for myself, Jason. I ask you to follow them because I know what will happen to you—to your soul—if you don't."

"Wow. So now you're a saint, huh? And since when did you care what was good for me? Your preferred method of dealing with trauma is taking kids off the streets, teaching them to throw a punch, and dressing them up in _clown costumes!_ Why do you _think_ I'm messed up?!"

"Do you know where you'd be if I hadn't?" Bruce snapped. "How was giving you a home, a family, and, better yet, a way to rid the streets of the horrors that ruined _your life_ worse than you winding up dead in some back alley?"

" _I did wind up dead!_ "

Silence fell like dust, filling the air with anger tense enough to cut. I knew I should have left then, but something glued me in place.

"Do you know why I use guns, Bruce?" Jason asked, soft and deadly. "It's because I know what happens when Batman fails. And that is not happening to anyone else if I can have a say otherwise. I will do _anything_ to make sure the people I love and the city I protect are safe. _Anything._ And sometimes, a gun is the only thing that works."

A pause. Then, Bruce's reply.

"Do you think I could have saved you if I had used a gun?"

Jason spluttered. "Well, I don't… what do you think? I wasn't there. I was getting beat up with a crowbar. Do you think you could've?"

"Alright, we're done here."

"No, I want to—"

I heard the creak of Bruce's chair as he stood. Adrenaline flashed through my veins as I thought what he would do if he found me sitting out here, now, listening in. Before I heard another word, I dashed down the hallway and up to my room.

Once there, I closed the door and locked it, then drew the curtains over the door to the balcony. I needed to be alone. I climbed onto my bed, grabbed a pillow, and hugged it tight to my chest.

Something had changed, and I didn't think it could ever be set right again.

/

I came out of my room an hour later to find a note sitting outside my door.

 _Sam,_

 _I'll be gone on JL duty for a few days. When I come back, I want to spend some time researching your powers. In the meantime, I have a favor to ask. Please talk to Jason; he listens to you._

 _B_

A sigh escaped my mouth. This problem was getting far too big for a house to hold. It was certainly far too big for little old me to handle alone. I needed support.

I made my way down to the kitchen, where I found Alfred putting together some breakfast. He offered me some eggs and sausage, and we sat down at the small table where I had my first dinner in this house.

"You seem troubled," Alfred said as he dug his fork into his food. "What's on your mind?"

"Jason and Bruce," I snorted. "What else?"

"You know Master Bruce left?"

"Yeah, he left me a note." I massaged my brow. "He wants me to… 'talk' to Jason."

Alfred nodded in understanding. "I've often been entrusted with similar missions. Of course, by now, I do it of my own accord."

"What should I do? I hate being the go-between."

Alfred pointed his fork at me. "I'd suggest at least giving it a try. Talk to Jason. See if you can't get his side of the debate. The more we know, the better."

I grinned. "This sounds like a mission."

Alfred shrugged. "Maybe the most important mission of all. We're trying to save our family."

"Is there anyone else in the house I should talk to?"

"Master Timothy is very close with Master Jason. He could be helpful."

"Just what I was thinking. I'm going to go find Tim."

"Uh-uh," Alfred scolded. "Sit down and eat your food, young lady."

I smiled and sat.

Once I had finished my breakfast, I ran around the manor searching for Tim. I found him—where else—in the Batcave, researching… dirt?

"What are you doing?" I asked.

Tim glanced up from his work. "I'm working on something for a case. Bruce handed it over to me when he left. You know he—?"

"Yeah. Hey, do you have a minute?"

"Uh, sure." Tim swiveled to face me. "What do you need?"

"I have a mission from Bruce, too. But it's personal. He asked me to talk to Jason while he's away."

Tim grimaced. "That sounds fun."

"Yeah, well, I've decided to try. But I was wondering if you'd help me. Alfred says you and Jay are close. And surely I'm not the only person in this family he listens to, or he would've cracked a long time ago."

Tim tapped his finger on the arm of the chair. "I could try. Do you want to go together?"

"Sure."

"Alright." Tim stood. "Although… shouldn't we leave someone down here?"

I glanced over at my brother, fast asleep in the medical bay. He suddenly looked incredibly fragile and helpless. I bit my lip.

"On second thought, why don't you go talk to him first, and then I'll talk to him later?"

"Sounds good. I think we should space this out, though. You should wait until tomorrow."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. If Jason thinks we're ganging up on him, he'll explode."

"Fair point."

Tim patted me on the shoulder. "We'll get through to him. Don't worry."

Tim left, and I took up my station at Jem's bedside. An hour later, Tim returned. He looked angry. My face fell.

"What went wrong?" I asked.

Tim threw up his hands. "Everything. He was looking for you and found Bruce's note, so… now he knows. And I managed to catch up with him just a few minutes later. He was still boiling mad. We didn't have a discussion so much as a shouting match."

I crossed my arms. "What did you say?"

"I tried to tell him that he's important to us, and that we want him. Instead, I said he was 'a part of this family,' and I think he took it wrong." Tim dug his fingers into his hair. "And… I told him he was being ridiculous. And that he was wrong to use guns. And that I was ashamed of him." He collapsed into the computer chair and buried his face in his hands. "I just ruined everything, didn't I?"

With a sigh, I left Jem and rushed to Tim's side. "It's okay. I'm sure we can fix this. Just give him time to cool off."

That was the most hopeful lie I had ever told. I knew there was no helping it now. Either Jason came around on his own, or… what would he do? Would he leave? And if he did, what would he do without Batman to supervise him?

What would we unleash upon Gotham?

/

I ran into Jason a little later in the afternoon. He was sitting on the middle of the hallway, cleaning his helmet. He seemed to have cooled off; he certainly didn't look mad. I decided to take a chance.

But the moment I walked up to him, his brows lowered. "You here to talk me into dropping the Ring, Samwise?"

I stopped. "Jay, he just wants to make peace. He's just… aware of what happens when he tries to do it himself."

"That's how Bruce works, Sam." He scrubbed at a spot on his helmet viciously. "If he can't do it himself, he uses other people to do it for him."

"I'm not here for him," I snapped. "I'm not his minion, and I'm certainly not speaking for him. I'm speaking for myself when I say that I need you two to make up. I need you to stop butting heads. You're tearing this family apart, with your big egos and made up disagreements!"

"Wow. Tim was better."

I fumed. Then, I realized that this was exactly what happened to Tim. Jason's utter refusal to listen must have gotten on his nerves. He had exploded. Jason wasn't a bomb; he was the detonator.

I took a deep breath and sat down next to him. I held out my hands, and after a moment, Jason handed the helmet and cleaning cloth to me. I started to work.

"I think you've missed something important," I said. "Bruce doesn't disagree with you."

Jason snorted. "Yeah, of course he doesn't."

"I'm serious. Bruce thinks guns would make crime fighting way easier. He knows that they're intimidating, powerful, showy, everything he's trying to be. A part of him probably think that if he used guns, he would be a better Batman."

Jason clenched his fists. "Then why does he keep telling me to stop using them?"

"Because the point of his crusade is not to kill off each individual criminal as they come. He's not a cop; he doesn't work from one case to the next. Batman is meant to strike fear into the hearts of _every_ criminal, across the board, while they're still alive, so that maybe, just maybe, they'll see the error of their ways and make a change. The moment you start offing people, you make them into martyrs. Martyrs for crime. Even worse, by using guns— _their_ weapons, the tools of _their_ trade—you make yourself no better than them. And the moment you lower yourself to their level, you stop being frightening."

"That's not why he doesn't use guns. He's scared of them because a gun killed his parents."

I smirked. "You think, after all these years, that Bruce is _afraid_ of guns?"

Jason didn't answer, so I went on. "Bruce isn't afraid of guns. He wears a Kevlar suit. He can dodge bullets just fine. He could take one apart in seconds, while someone else is holding it. He's not scared of the gun, he's scared of what it does to people. It doesn't just hurt the victims, it hurts the users. People that use guns think they're invincible, and they let their guard down, and sooner or later, they become the victims. That's the cycle of crime: victims rise and rise, until they forget why they had to rise in the first place, and by then someone else has risen higher than them, and they become a victim again."

"Is that why there are so many villains out there who've beaten him?"

"Exactly right. Batman himself is the product of a victim's rise. And every now and then, someone comes along to take him down. But the good thing about Batman is, he never stays down. His story isn't defined by his defeats, it's defined by his victories."

Jason rolled his eyes. "Seems to me like he only ever cares about the defeats."

"Every victory is backed by defeats." I handed him back his helmet. "Superman told me about the first time he and Batman met. They literally beat each other up. Their friendship is a product of years and years working together and learning to trust each other. Then there's me; I have superpowers now, which is, honestly, pretty victorious, but when I first learned about the chip, it felt like a defeat. Getting back to Gotham took defeat after defeat, but I made it. And you… you must be one of Bruce's victories, or he would never have asked for my help. All he wants is to keep you safe."

Jason got to his feet and tucked his helmet under one arm. "Tell him I can manage."

And then he walked away.

I didn't follow him. If he was still angry after a speech like that, then there was really nothing I could do.

/

"Sam."

Someone was shaking me awake. I rubbed my eyes and glanced at the bedside clock. It was one in the morning.

"Sam, wake up."

I blinked my tired eyes and squinted into the dark. Was that a red helmet? I frowned.

"Jason?"

"Hey," he whispered. "Listen, Sam…" He took off the helmet. "Sammy, I… wanted to say goodbye."

I tried to keep my eyes open. "Where are you going?"

"I don't know. Just… away."

"Wait…" I pulled myself up groggily. "What do you… are you leaving?"

Jason sat on the edge of the bed and gave me a one-armed hug. "Bye, Sam."

My brain wasn't awake enough to process what was going on. As Jason moved to the door, I slid out of bed, trying to think.

"Jay, wait!"

I stumbled out into the hallway. He just kept walking.

"Jason!" I hissed.

He didn't talk. He didn't even turn around. I followed him in silence. By the time he got down to the Batcave, I had woken up enough to realize what was happening.

"You're running away, aren't you?" I cried.

"I'm an independent adult," Jason said. "I'm not running away, I'm leaving. I'm allowed to do that, aren't I?"

He was moving toward the motorbikes. He was actually going to leave. My still tired brain formed a single idea and started playing it on repeat. _Don't let him leave. Don't let him go._

I ran up to him and grabbed his arm. "Jay, this isn't the way. Bruce will be home in a few days. He's giving you the space you need to cool down and think things through. Just be patient. You and Bruce can work this out when he gets back."

Jason stopped in his tracks and turned to me. His eyes flashed. "I don't want to work it out, Sam. I've been trying to work it out for years. I'm done. It's time for me to be my own man."

"But… Jay!" I tried to get in front of him, but he pushed me aside. "Jay, stop it! You don't know what you're doing, just… just think about this!"

"I have thought about this!" Jason yelled. "I've thought about this a lot, and I've made my choice! Why don't you make yours, Sam? Do you really want to stay here, where your every move is monitored by the almighty Batman, and you can't get a word in edgewise because your opinions don't matter? Can you really stay when you know that he's not doing everything he can, just to stay true to some fake rule he gave himself when he was a kid?"

I stood frozen in place, crying. Why was this happening? I had been so afraid of Jason leaving, I hadn't stopped to consider that he actually might.

And then he held out his hand. "Come with me, Sam. I'll take care of you. You and I can track down Ra's. We can make him pay. I could teach you; we could fight crime together. We could be a team."

I just shook my head. I couldn't speak. Jason's face fell. He turned and started one of the bikes.

"I'm leaving, either way," he said. "Are you coming or not?"

He swung onto the bike, but hesitated, looking back at me. I could hardly see his face through the haze of tears that filled my eyes. He waited five, ten, fifteen seconds. Then, I heard him kick up the stand and rev the engine.

"Goodbye, Samantha," he said, his own voice shaking.

The bike started to move. I stayed fixed to the spot, tears rolling down my cheeks, falling to the floor. I watched in silence as Jason drove across the cave, up to the exit, down the tunnel. The roar of the bike got quieter and quieter.

He was gone.

I fell to my knees and wept.

/

He had to do it, Jason kept telling himself. He had to.

Bruce was too controlling. He didn't have the guts to do what had to be done. Jason did. He had to try things his way. He had to become his own man, like Jem said, free from the shadow of the Bat. This was worth it, he thought. It had to be.

Because if it wasn't, he had just left his best friend behind for nothing.

Jason brushed the tears from his face and jammed the helmet on his head. Now wasn't the time to think. It was time to drive.

And so he drove, until the web of Gotham's streets swallowed him.

/

Bruce came home two days later. When he asked me how it had gone with Jason, he was met with silence. Dick told him about Jason leaving.

Sometime later that day, Bruce asked me if I was ready to start researching my power. I told him I was, so long as the research included punching things. He set things up in the cave, and I spent the rest of the day listening to pop music and hammering my fists into bag after punching bag. We learned little that I didn't already know. That was fine. Today wasn't about learning. It was about doing something that wasn't thinking about Jason.

And then, the next day, Dick and Tim walked into the breakfast room with sheepish faces.

"I got a call," Dick said, holding up his phone, as if he wanted us to know that it was the culprit of some crime, and not him. "From work."

"Work?" Bruce repeated, wrinkling his brow.

"Yeah, the, uh… the spa place where I work. In Chicago." Dick fidgeted with his phone. "They… want to know when I'm coming back."

Great. Just great. I sighed. I wasn't mad anymore. It was just time for everyone to leave. That's how this week was shaping up, anyway.

Bruce turned to Tim. "What about you?"

Tim held up his phone, exactly like Dick had. "Titans need me."

Bruce pushed his food away and ran a hand over his face. "Okay."

"We're sorry," Dick said. "We just… have lives. Obligations."

"No, I understand," Bruce said. "You don't have to apologize for having your own lives. I'm no dictator; if you have to leave, I won't keep you."

I felt eyes on me. I kept my head down.

"Sam," Tim said. "I'm sorry. But we have to go."

I nodded. "I know."

Tim took the plane he had borrowed from the Teen Titans. Dick took his car. I gave them both long hugs—probably far longer than was comfortable. But I hadn't hugged Jason. I had to make up for that.

I waved them off. They left, disappearing far too soon. I tried not to cry.

And then we got back to work. Bruce found some Egyptian drumming and sparred with me. He was easy to beat.

The dinner table that night felt empty. Bruce, Damian, and me. Alfred stayed in the cave with Jem. We hardly spoke. I stared down at my dinner and wondered if this was what life would be like from now on.

/

I spent a lot of time in the cave, researching my powers and hanging out with Jem. Jem became my closest companion. We talked about anything, from how much we loved thunderstorms, to how hard it was to sleep with bats squealing overhead, to how long his recovery was taking and how much we wished we could hang out somewhere other than the medical bay. We played board games and card games and occasionally borrowed the computer, either for fun or to teach Jem about the world he had missed while serving Ra's. Sometimes we invited Damian; sometimes Alfred would join us; and sometimes, we preferred to be alone.

Bruce knew I wasn't as invested in research as he was, so he decided to take it a little more slowly. We tried new genres of music, wondering if certain things affected me differently than others. Nothing is more empowering than steamrolling Batman and Robin to "All I Want for Christmas Is You." But mostly, Bruce just sparred with me, and sometimes brought in Damian, to test the extent of my physical prowess, both with and without music.

Alfred always gave us the stink eye when we talked about sparring. He didn't like hearing about me fighting. Maybe he was still afraid that I'd end up becoming a vigilante. I didn't know what I'd end up becoming. All I knew was that if I stopped fighting and researching and testing, I started to feel lonely.

After you've lived in the same house with four very rowdy boys, your invalid brother, your uncle, and Batman himself for over a week, you really can tell when some of them are missing.

I should've been more sociable with the ones who were left behind. A week after Dick, Tim, and Jason left, Damian met me in the TV room. He sat down next to me on the couch and asked me, "How are you?"

It was the most surprising thing, to be asked about my wellbeing by Damian Wayne, the boy who constantly pretended not to care. I looked at him and realized for the first time how much I had been ignoring him in favor of my brother. Instantly, guilt hit me like a ton of bricks.

"I'm fine, Damian. I feel like I haven't really talked to you in a while. How are you?"

Damian shrugged. "The house is finally quiet."

"Yeah." I sat until I couldn't stand the silence. "Do you miss them?"

"No," Damian spat. "We don't need them."

That was when I had an epiphany. _We don't need them._ That was exactly how I felt. _We don't need them_ , I said to myself when they left. _We don't need them_ , I said as the loneliness tugged at my heart, as I turned to my brother to keep it at bay. _We don't need them_ , I said with each punch, each kick, each beat of the music. _We don't need them_ , I continued to say, deceiving myself into a sense of peace.

But I had been thinking about them all wrong. I had been thinking of them as friends. Friends come and go all the time. I hadn't seen any of my friends from school since spring. But family was completely different. Family stuck together. It wasn't hard to tell which one the Waynes were.

I did need them. Family sticks together.

I scooted across the couch and wrapped my arms around Damian. I expected him to fight me, but he didn't.

"I never told you how much I missed you," I said. "When I was living with Ra's, I thought of you all the time. Jem reminded me of you. And Talia… I could see your face in hers, just a little bit."

"I missed you, too," Damian muttered. "I thought you were dead. Grandfather doesn't take prisoners."

"Well, as you can see, I'm not dead."

Damian blinked rapidly. "Samantha?"

"Hm?"

"I'm sorry."

I frowned in surprise. "For what?"

Damian sniffed. "I'm sorry because I noticed the Man-Bats first. But I noticed them too late. And if I had heard them or seen them sooner, you wouldn't have been taken, and you wouldn't have been gone…"

"Damian," I sighed, hugging him closer. "You have nothing to be sorry for. But if it means that much to you, I forgive you. I forgive you, a hundred times over."

Damian relaxed a little. I closed my eyes and smiled, feeling less alone than I had in days.

"Hey, Damian?"

"What?"

I perched my chin on his head. "Have you ever had a sister before?"

Damian gave a teary chuckle. "Are you suggesting yourself for the position?"

"Maybe."

"Well, it's too late. You're already my sister."

I laughed.

/

Three days later, Jem got out of bed.

I woke up, went downstairs, and there he was, sitting at the breakfast table. He grinned as I walked in.

"Surprise."

I squealed and ran to give him a hug. "You're better? Completely, totally better?"

"Yep. All better."

I smacked him on the cheek and turned to fill up a plate. "So what are you going to do, now that you're free of the cave?"

He didn't answer. The pause made my heart start to flutter. "Jem? What's the matter?"

I sat down next to him, turning to see his face. He looked sad. Even worse, I was detecting something apologetic in his eyes.

"You know what I need to do," he said, poking at his food.

Oh.

"You're going to leave," I said.

Jem glanced nervously at me. "Are you mad?"

I pursed my lips, thinking. "No. No, I'm not mad. I know you have a good reason. It's just… do you have to go so soon?"

Jem shrugged his shoulders. "Yes. I mean, it's been nice, living here, having someone to look after me. But I know I can't do this forever. Not as I am now, at least. It's like I said, I need some time to figure things out. My whole life, I've been following Ra's' orders; every decision has been somehow informed by him and his beliefs. I want to figure out what _I_ believe. How _I_ make decisions."

Something about this felt very familiar. "You want to become your own man," I said.

"Exactly."

I frowned down at my sunny-side-up eggs. "I don't want Ra's to find you. If he does, he'll kill you."

"Ra's won't find him," Bruce said as he walked in. "I'm not letting him go without a little help. I've got an alias all ready for you, Jeremiah. And once you're done eating, I want you to come down to the cave to help me pack some supplies."

"I don't need too much, Mr. Wayne," Jem said meekly. "I'm going to be travelling. I don't want to be weighed down."

"Understood. But you'll need something to start with. Don't let it be said that Bruce Wayne doesn't give good gifts."

Jem ducked his head. "Thank you, sir. But really, sir, you don't have to."

"No, I don't. It's called charity." Bruce took a small plate and started piling sausages onto it. "I'll meet you down there."

I turned to my brother. "I haven't seen you act like that since Ra's put you in your place."

Jem smiled. "He's the Detective, Sam. He's just… a little intimidating."

I chuckled. "Yeah, he is. But he's also a big softy." I paused. "I'm sure you'd see that if you stayed."

"Nice try." Jem shoveled the last of his eggs into his mouth, downed a glass of milk, and got up. "I have to go. Meet me down in the cave in about an hour. I should be ready to take off by then."

"Alright," I said.

He left me alone in the dining room. It was so suddenly silent, I started eating as loudly and rapidly as I could. I was done far too quick, with an hour still ahead of me, an hour of waiting for my brother to leave me—again.

I slumped in my chair. Why did everyone have to leave?

/

An hour passed quickly, though it felt like eternity itself had passed in the interim. I ran down to the cave to find Bruce and Jem strapping a simple backpack onto the back of Bruce's plainest motorbike.

Jem smiled as I walked over. "We're pretty much done here."

"So you're ready to leave?"

"He's ready," Bruce said.

Jem and I stood face to face, both trying to think of something to say. I searched for the words I wanted, words for saying "goodbye," words for saying "I love you." None of them were enough.

So we skipped the words and just hugged. I dug my fingers into the warm winter coat Bruce had lent him. I could feel his heart beating in his chest. Each second that ticked by reminded me again how much I loved this boy, my brother, my twin.

We finally broke apart. Jem took a deep breath; I could tell he was holding back tears. "I'll be back as soon as possible."

"You better," I sniffed.

He tried to smile, but it came off more like a grimace. He turned and mounted the bike, settling into place.

"Remember," Bruce said, "if you ever end up in trouble, just tell the bike—"

"'Take me home.' I remember, sir. Thank you again, Mr. Wayne. And…"

He turned to me, and finally managed to smile.

"Thank you for taking care of my sister."

Bruce put an arm around me as Jem started up the engine. Deja vu set in as I watched him drive away, down the tunnel that seemed desperate to swallow up everyone I loved. But Jem paused. Just before he disappeared, he turned back and waved.

I waved back, and as I did, I felt a sense of peace fall over me. Not false peace, not peace through deception. This was real peace.

Maybe my family was spread far and wide. Maybe my family was broken, and tired, and in need of a break. But we were still family. We would see each other again, someday.

Today, though, I had work to do. I turned to Bruce.

"Let's try swing today. I want to see what that does."

"I'll set up."

"I'll go get ready."

I followed Bruce away from the tunnel. I wouldn't look back. From now on, I had to look forward. Only there would I see my family together again.


	16. Chapter 15: A Christmas Carol

**Chapter 15 - A Christmas Carol**

Christmas came faster than the Flash. Before I could think twice, I had bought and wrapped presents for everyone I could think of, helped Alfred decorate the entire first floor, and sorted through—I kid you not—a hundred and fifty-two Christmas cards from Wayne Enterprises employees, various Justice League members, a couple old friends from school who found out where I had moved, and at least three dozen fan letters from Dick Grayson's extensive following. I forwarded those to his Chicago address. He texted me a picture when he got them, of his fancy loft decorated with cheesy Christmas cards.

There were a couple packages, too. I saw one from Tim, with a letter signed by all the Teen Titans; I pinned that one up in my bedroom. There was one from Dick—an enormous box that required three people to move it. I noticed one wrapped entirely in black, with a handwritten tag that simply said, "Meow." I handed that one to Bruce right quick.

I saw nothing from Jason.

On the twenty-third, Bruce hosted the Annual Wayne Enterprises Christmas Party in the grand ballroom. I went for a little while, just to show off my fancy new dress and shake some hands. I was about to leave when Bruce got hold of me.

"Samantha! I hope you weren't going to leave just yet." He steered me back into the crowd. "I have someone I want you to meet."

Oh, boy. Maybe it was another Justice League member! Then, Bruce stopped and tapped a middle-aged man in a crisp suit on the shoulder. When the man turned around, I saw he had a sprig of holly in his lapel, and a small wrapped box in his hand. He saw me and smiled the warmest of smiles.

"This must be Samantha."

Bruce put a hand on my back. "Sam, this is Lucius Fox. He's my right-hand man. I couldn't run the company without him."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Samantha," Lucius said, extending a hand. I shook.

"The pleasure's all mine, sir."

"Mister Wayne has told me a great deal about you," he said. "That is, when he can bear to bring himself into the office."

"You know me," Bruce said, using that fake laugh I associated with Tim's birthday party and important phone calls.

"I took the liberty of buying you a gift," Lucius said, handing me the box. "You can open it now; I'm sure Santa won't mind."

I smiled and tore the paper off the box. I saw the words "Lake Finnwell Jewelers" in gold-embossed script. Then I lifted the lid. Inside was a pair of earrings, crafted to look like a bird in flight, with a single yellow jewel in each.

"They're beautiful," I breathed. "Thank you, Mr. Fox."

"Lucius, please. I heard you liked meadowlarks." He winked.

I stared at Lucius, then down at the earrings, then up at Bruce. Bruce gave me the smallest knowing grin.

"Lucius is responsible for getting important messages to me—including anything interesting customer service finds."

Oh. _Oh._

I held out my hand again. "Lucius, I owe you."

"Not at all. I'm glad to have you back safe and sound; that's payment enough."

"I can at least get you a Christmas present. After all, it's only fair after you got me one. I'll add you to the list."

"That's very generous," Lucius said. He glanced up at Bruce. "I like this one. When do we get her out in the city?"

"Ah-ha," Bruce coughed. "No, not Sam. She's… not like that."

I stared at the floor. I knew exactly what they were talking about. And for some reason, Bruce's response made me… mad.

I looked up. "Well, it's lovely to meet you, Lucius. Bruce, if you'll let me, I'd like to make a fashionably early exit."

"Of course. I'll see you tomorrow."

I smiled and shook hands with Lucius one more time, then made my escape. The walk back to my room gave me time to think.

Bruce didn't want me out there. He didn't want me to become a vigilante. And once upon a time, I would have whole-heartedly agreed. I'm not a fighter; I don't do capes and masks and punching bad guys. That didn't make sense back then. But now…

Now I _was_ a fighter. I had it programmed into me; maybe I ought to use it for a good cause. I realized I had started expecting to become one of them—to become a vigilante for justice, to get my cape and mask, and to start using my powers for the greater good.

And now Bruce was against it. I had only just become open to the possibility, and it was gone.

Maybe.

As I reached my room and got ready for bed, I glanced at the balcony doors, remembering that night when Damian took me out. I remembered the feeling of wearing the mask, of swinging around the city by wire, of having a plan and executing it. That life… I could do that. I knew I could. And if I knew it, maybe I could convince Bruce. Oh yeah… and Alfred. But then, if Alfred let Bruce do it, maybe he wasn't as strict as he seemed.

I turned and walked out onto the balcony. I hugged myself against the cold and watched my breath form clouds in the night air. Somewhere out there, Gotham City flickered with life—families huddling around Christmas trees, last minute shoppers racing from store to store, friends gathering in bars for a holiday toast. All of them needed protection from the dangers and pitfalls of Gotham's worst; and more than ever, I knew that was meant to be me. I had to keep this city safe, by Batman's side or by myself.

Sadie Beckham's face crossed my mind. Then Jem's. Then my parents'. I remembered all my high school friends, all those nice people at Dad's gym and Mom's laundromat and the burger place where I worked. My heart swelled; for them, I had to do this. For them, I had to become a hero.

"Don't worry, Gotham," I whispered, my words floating into the winter chill like a prayer embodied. "I'm coming."

/

The next day was Christmas Eve and the Wayne family party, with added guests: the Kents and Diana. We had an elaborate three-course feast, prepared by Alfred; we sang Christmas songs around the grand piano, played by Alfred. If I had thought singing "Happy Birthday" with the Waynes was fun, it was nothing compared to pairing up with Superman for "White Christmas." I tried to get Bruce to sing "The Christmas Song" with me; he politely refused.

And of course there were presents—most of which were bought and wrapped by Alfred—under the biggest tree in the manor. I watched, smiling, as Jon practically threw a bag full of homemade chocolate truffles at Damian, and Damian casually pointed out a limited-edition Superman action figure he had procured for Jon. Clark got an expensive designer tie, Bruce got a fur-lined trapper hat, and Diana and Lois exchanged jeweled bracelets they may or may not have bought for themselves.

Then there were my gifts. I had never received so many Christmas presents. There was a pearl necklace from Damian, a diary from Alfred, a peacoat from the Kents. Diana gave me a hairpiece which, apparently, was forged by Amazonian warriors and protected the wearer from curses and bad luck. I got two gifts from Dick; one was a pendant necklace, and the other was a book about music and its effects on the human mind. The note inside said, "Found this in a nearby bookshop and thought of you." Tim sent me a hat from Paris; I wondered what he was doing in Paris.

But the best gift was from Bruce. He sat down with me on a couch by the fire and handed me an envelope. When I opened it, I found nothing but an ad for an online tutoring program. I turned to Bruce in confusion.

"That," he said, pointing to the ad, "is your new school. I told you I'd help you finish your education, and I plan to follow through. You can take your classes entirely online, there are discussion forums and advanced courses—"

I flung my arms around him, laughing. "Thank you, thank you! Bruce, thank you so much!"

He patted me on the back. "You're welcome."

"So when do classes start?"

"Early January. You'll have one semester in spring and one in summer. There's a graduation ceremony in August."

I kissed him on the cheek. "You're the best, Dad!"

We both froze. I blinked and stuttered. "That is, I mean, you're… you're kind of _like_ a dad to me, unless you'd… you don't…"

Bruce smiled. "I don't mind one bit, Samantha."

We sat together in front of the fireplace for the rest of the party. I couldn't help crying just a little bit. I used to sit with my dad just like this, nestled under his arm with my legs curled to my chest. Maybe, once, sitting like this with Bruce would have felt wrong. But now, it just felt safe. And so, through my tears, I smiled.

/

I surprised myself by ruining the moment. After the Kents and Diana had gone home, Bruce and Damian went down to the Batcave to prepare for patrol. I followed at a distance, running over and over in my head the speech I was going to use to turn Bruce to my side. Tonight, I was going to become a vigilante superhero.

Bruce noticed me the second I stepped out into the cave. He smiled, which was odd to see under the Batcowl. "Samantha. Shouldn't you be in bed?"

"Yes, I believe Santa Claus only comes once you're asleep," Damian joked. "You don't want to put him off-schedule."

"And you're going out to patrol on Christmas Eve," I shot back. "If anyone's going to throw Santa off-schedule, it's you two."

Bruce straightened, tugging on a glove. "What do you want, Sam?"

I fidgeted with my hands behind my back. "I… wanted to talk to you."

"About what?"

"About… patrolling."

The smile vanished. Rats; he caught on too fast.

"Hear me out," I said quickly. Time for the spiel. "Bruce, I know you and Alfred are both very sensitive about the idea of me becoming a vigilante like you. But I want you to remember who and what I am now. I can fight, sometimes better than you. I have powers, too, which make me even stronger. If you're worried about me getting hurt—"

"Sam."

"If you're worried about me getting hurt, I have it covered! And I believe this is what I'm meant to do. I've been thinking about this a lot, and I know I'm supposed to use my powers for good, to keep the people of Gotham safe. If you don't agree—"

"Samantha."

"That's fine! But I'm going to do this. With or without your help. So will you help me?"

I let the question hand, my eyes fixed on the stone floor. The silence stretched out for one minute too long, and I risked a peek up.

Bruce was smiling again.

"You know, sometimes it's uncanny how much you remind me of Tim."

"Is…" I swallowed hard. "Is that a good thing?"

"Sam," Bruce said, pulling back the cowl and sitting down, "I've watched so many people risk their lives for the people of this city. Dick, Tim, Barbara and her father. So many have taken it upon themselves to care for Gotham's innocent and good."

I nodded. "I know."

He looked me in the eye. "And Sam… somehow I always knew you'd become one of them."

I ducked my head and smiled. "Really?"

"You have that same spark I see in so many of them. You have that thirst for justice, and you believe in goodness so powerfully… in a way I haven't for a long time. I think Gotham needs someone like you."

He stood, walked to me, and held out his hand. "You're not quite ready yet, but… it's Christmas. So I'll give you this, as my final gift. I will help you get there."

I took one look at his hand and bypassed it for a hug.

"Thank you, Bruce," I whispered.

He chuckled and hugged me back.

"Now all we have to do is convince Alfred."

/

Christmas morning rolled slowly out of bed and unfurled its glory with soft golden light. A light snowfall overnight had covered any tracks and blemishes, and the whole world looked pristine. I got up and walked to the balcony doors to stare at the wonderland outside.

There was a package out there.

I quickly opened the doors and swept the package into the warmth of my room. I skipped to my bed and nestled into the duvet to open my surprise.

Inside was a scarf. A black scarf, at least twice my height, and as soft as silk. The only other thing in there was a piece of paper with a hastily written note.

 _Keep warm out there, Samwise._

I beamed as I wrapped the scarf around my neck, determined not to take it off for the rest of the day.

Alfred walked me to a small church outside the city for the early service. I cried again, this time remembering all those Christmases past when my parents and I would wake up at the crack of dawn to go to our church out in the country, and I would wear my favorite dress with the lace trim, and we would sing "Joy to the World" and "Hark the Herald Angels" with as much gusto as we could muster that early in the morning.

It also reminded me of Sadie and the Beckhams again. I silently wished them well and prayed that Ra's al Ghul never found out they'd harbored me. And I hoped they were happy. They deserved nothing less.

After church, as we were walking home, I got up the courage to tell Alfred about last night's development. I tried to put it as casually as possible. He still freaked out.

"Absolutely not."

"We've already agreed, so…"

"You aren't ready," Alfred said. "You simply aren't ready, and that's that."

"I know, but Bruce is going to train me. He's going to make me ready. So you still have a little time to… come around."

"No, thank you. You aren't a fighter, you are a maid."

I stopped in my tracks. "Alfred. I am a fighter."

He turned back to me, his eyes misty. "I know, Samantha. I know."

I ran to him, and he held me so tight I thought he was going to break my spine. I didn't want him to cry, not on Christmas. But I knew I had to do this.

"I'm sorry I told you like this. I should have waited until after Christmas."

"It's fine," Alfred sighed. "I just… don't know how to stop you."

"Please don't," I whispered. "I need to do this."

He let me go and took my head in his hands, staring into my eyes. "Are you positive? This is your calling?"

"I'm sure."

He looked at me for a second more, then gently leaned over and kissed me on the forehead.

"Then far be it from me to hold you down, my beautiful meadowlark. Just please… please be careful. I don't want to lose you again."

"I promise, I won't leave you ever again."

"Nice try," he chuckled. "But we both know I'm going to be staying up even later into the night, worrying, now."

"Oof, the guilt trick. That's not fair, Alfred."

"Worth a try."

Once we got back to the city, Bruce and Damian joined us for a day wandering around Gotham to enjoy the lights and decorations that spruced up downtown. Even the most crime-ridden city in the world could get into the Christmas Spirit. We had brunch at a fancy restaurant, and did a little extra Christmas shopping just for the fun of it.

And then, that evening, we went to the Gordons' house for dinner. I hadn't seen Jim Gordon since he arrested me way back when. He didn't seem to hold it against me, as he piled slice after slice of ham onto my plate. Babs assured me that he trusted Bruce Wayne, which meant he trusted anyone Bruce took in. I did my best to relax.

After dinner came presents, once again. I gave Babs the adorable turtleneck sweater I had found for her, and was rewarded in return with a gift card for a local coffee shop, and the promise of a date.

She was showing off the new phone her dad had surprised her with, when Gordon pulled out his own buzzing device. He sighed.

"I'm sorry, it's work. I'll be right back." He picked up the call and slipped into the kitchen.

The room got quieter and quieter as Jim's voice slowly rose in volume. Something was wrong. I glanced at Babs.

"It's big," Barbara said, knitting her brow. "That's his problem voice. Bruce?"

Bruce held up a finger as Jim stormed back into the room. He made a beeline for the coat rack.

"I have to go," Jim said tersely, pulling on his greatcoat. "I'm really sorry, but something's come up."

"What's the problem, Commissioner?" Bruce asked.

Jim set his jaw. "Breakout at Arkham Asylum."

Bruce's shoulders tensed. I could see him shifting into Batman mode.

"Who?"

Jim shook his head as he opened the door. "Take a wild guess."

"The big one?"

"Oh, yeah."

Babs gripped my hand. "Not him."

Jim lowered his brows. "You guys stay here. Waynes, I'd say it's safer if you don't go out on the street. We'll set you up for the night."

"Thank you."

As the door slammed shut, I turned bewildered to Barbara. "Who's the big one?"

Babs closed her eyes as if praying. Then she turned to me, her face grim.

"It's the Joker. The Joker is loose."

/

 _And that's it! That's the last chapter of_ Flight Path. _A warning to all my readers, I don't have much more actually written, so it might be a loooong time before you see part three. But don't worry; I have it all planned out, and I'm honestly pretty excited. So, as ye olde radio programs would say, "Stay tuned for the next episode of Samantha's life!"_


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